


Staring at the sun

by SahadCaethlin



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Not a Deathfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:56:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SahadCaethlin/pseuds/SahadCaethlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is an actor on the "What would you do" TV show. He is waiting near an abandoned church for all the crew to be ready to shoot when his friend and co-actress Brenda proposes to visit the abandoned church to kill the time. He and Gally accept to go inside with her and, as he visits, Thomas makes a dreadful discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Positive

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. Before you read this story just know that I am no doctor nor I have someone with aids among my friends or family. Therefore, even doing some research on it, I don't pretend to know much about it. This story isn't about HIV or aids: this story is about people meeting people, needing help, helping each other, fighting to live, hope, strengh, acceptance, etc.
> 
> I prefer to warn you: I am not planning on writing about a tragic death. This is not a deathfic.

Thomas was embracing himself because of the cold. Why hadn't he taken a warmer coat since he was working outside today? Or maybe it was the lack of sleep: there was that new game that had been released a few days ago and since then, he had only slept three or four hours per night. He mentally insulted himself and tightened his scarf around his neck while looking at the entire crew preparing the shooting scene. They were working for the " _What would you do?"_ TV show and today scenario was a gang of young adults assaulting an Asian guy out of pure racism and see who would step up for the poor soul.  His colleague and friend Minho was at makeup session, already looking like someone had beaten him badly thanks to Teresa, their makeup artist. She was quite talented when it came to make up and always let everyone stunned when Halloween came. She had been Thomas' classmate in high school and was the one who contacted him for the show when she had known he had become an actor. He couldn't thank her enough since the beginning of a career was always pretty harsh and he had been more than happy to work on the show.

Brenda came nearby and offered him a little goblet with warm coffee. She had been his best friend since he had begun acting classes: she was quite small and thin, a caramel coloured skin, black short hair and big dark eyes with long lashes. She was really cute but definitely a girl only in appearance, talking and behaving boyishly most of the time. The kind of free girl Thomas liked to be around because she was funny, with a strong personality and didn't care about what people thought of her. Today, she was going to play one of Minho's aggressors, along with Thomas and Gally, another actor he had met when becoming a member of the TV show. Gally seemed pretty scary because of his broad shoulders and his perpetual frown, but he was in fact a good nature when you tried to know him and he was always ready to help.

"I'm bored." Brenda groaned beside him, sipping her own coffee.

"It shouldn't be long, now." Thomas slyly smiled. "Stop fidgeting."

"I can't! I hate having to wait." She mumbled.

"Well, that's unfortunate since it's quite a huge part of our work." Gally smirked.

Thomas chuckled and shook his head, not even needing to look at the actress to know she was pouting. She let out a loud burp, making Gally to groan something about some lack of feminineness, and she beamed, totally ignoring him:

"Hey, why don't we go inside the church? I want to explore it!"

"Brenda, what do you want us to find in an abandoned church?" Thomas sighed.

"Come on, it will be fun. Better than waiting here." The black haired girl said with conviction. "If you don't come along, I'll go alone nonetheless."

"And what if you fall and hurt yourself?" Gally raised an eyebrow, trying to make his point.

"Well that's why you're coming with me! So you'll make sure I'll be fine!" She exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Don't try to argue with her, Gal'. You'll lose." Thomas laughed. "I'm gonna tell Alby we're going."

"Yay! I'm going on an adventure!" Brenda shouted.

The American boy slyly smiled and went to their director. Alby wasn't much older than him, but he had already some experience on set: he had worked on many TV shows as a manager assistant and this job was his second as a crew director. He was the one making sure everything was perfect before it went on TV. He was a bit smaller than Gally but as hefty as him, he had a dark skin and seemed to dislike every single hair on his head. He smiled at Thomas' sight:

"Hey Thomas. We're almost done. Ten minutes or so."

"Okay. Gally, Brenda and I are going inside the church to explore a bit. She's restless."

"Alright. Be back in ten. And be careful." Alby commanded.

"Yes, sir."

The brunette came back to his friends and colleagues and they went around the church, looking for a passage. They laughed as they tripped and advanced. Brenda was the first one to find an entrance by a side broken door. She laughed:

"So exciting!"

"Yeah, we are entering in a shucking old dump. I think I have a hard on right now." Gally growled ironically.

Thomas' eyes rolled and he followed Brenda inside the building. It was true that it looked like a dump. Many of the stained glass windows were broken and almost all the wood benches were rotting debris. They had to look carefully everywhere they put their feet not to trip or hurt themselves before the shooting. Brenda was laughing as she was walking in balance on one of the benches, talking about adventures or many scenarios of what could have happened here. She also mentioned an episode of the Walking Dead series that took place in a church. Gally was nearby, watching for her not to fall and all. Thomas on his side wasn't listening anymore and decided to explore a bit more: even old and dusty, the site hadn't lost all of its magnificence. The roof was high above, almost giving vertigo sensations and all the construction talked about greatness. He wonder how they had found such place in the middle of the city.

He walked a bit further: after all, they only had ten minutes to spend in there so he better had to look around quickly. He passed through a small door on the side of the altar and arrived in a corridor with a succession of small rooms. It was kind of oppressive but spending a few years with a best friend like Brenda left marks and he felt now excited as if going on an adventure. He continued to walk as the girl's voice echoed happily behind him in the main hall. As he passed three rooms, he noted that they all looked the same: one or two straw mattresses per room, a nightstand table in the middle and a cross somewhere above de beds, on the wall. It was fascinating. Somewhere lost in the time.

The fourth door was closed but as he passed the fifth one, his heart jumped: in the room, from where he was, he could see two legs on the floor. His eyes widened as he stopped dead on his track. What the hell was that? He tried to calm his heartbeat with some common sense: maybe it was a homeless guy needing a place to stay. That was all. And he was sleeping. Thomas wanted to leave, not willing to get chased down by a homeless guy or a junkie wanting to tear him apart for walking on his land. Doing so, he hit a decoration that heavily fell on the floor in a hell of a sound. He winced and looked instantaneously at the person on the floor, almost ready to run for his life. But no move came from there. Nor a sound.

"Thomas?" Brenda called. "Are you okay?"

"I am!" He answered, frowning as the person in the room didn’t move. "Just tripped."

He slowly walked into the room, getting closer. Why was that guy not moving? Was he deeply asleep? That was out of question: the brunette had made enough noise to awake the dead. So why? Coming closer, Thomas discovered a guy around his age. He had blond dirty dishevelled hair, his skin was sickly pale under the dirt, and his eyes were closed and circled by shadows... His clothes were used, a simple white dirty zipped sweater, an orange tank top, brown cargo pants and old sneakers. Thomas wondered what could have happened to that guy for him to be in such a state.

"Hello...?" His voice was not more than a murmur.

But the boy didn't move. In fact, looking closer, he seemed younger than him. Looking up, Thomas gulped at the sight of the statue of a vengeful angel. His stone features were severe, cold and merciless. The brunette didn't believe in anything, but right there, he felt incredibly small. He forced himself to look down again and as he detailed once more the blond boy at his feet, something hit him in the guts: in one hand, the boy had a cutter blade and, on the other side of his body, his hand was swimming in a pool of blood, his wrist deeply cut.

"Shucking shit!" Thomas muttered before putting a knee on the ground and touching the boy.

The unconscious blonde's skin was still warm and, even if the actor struggled to see it, he was faintly breathing. Thomas' blood flood violently in his veins and he called out at the top of his lungs:

"GALLY!!"

His colleague appeared at the door in a matter of seconds, closely followed by their co-actress. They blurted a flow of question that died almost instantaneously in their mouths as they saw the two of them. Thomas gave a few slaps on the blonde's cheeks as he called him:

"Hey! Wake up! Come on! Wake up, shank!"

"Thomas..." Brenda whispered. "What the hell-"

"Call an ambulance! Go and tell the others! Tell Alby!" Thomas commanded. "Gally! Give me a hand! We must take him out!"

The actress ran out of sight as the two boys caught the unconscious one. Gally was the strongest of them and he took the young blonde into his arms, taking him bridal style to take him out meanwhile Thomas took all he thought were the boy's belongings. There was a backpack with what looked like a sketchbook, a pencil case, a wallet... Nothing much. There was a photography on the ground on which the blonde was smiling with a blond woman around her forties, a younger blond girl who looked like fifteen years old, and a serious man with brown hair. Probably his family. Not thinking twice, Thomas put the photography in the bag and left the place, following Gally.

When they got outside, the entire crew came to help them. Alby commanded to give them place and informed them that an ambulance was coming. He leant on the blonde and checked a few things, knowing the first aid, he managed to stop the bleeding or at least contain it. The waiting for the ambulance looked like hours before they could hear the siren approaching. Gally gave them the young man and Thomas put the bag into the ambulance.

"Anyone coming?" The driver asked.

"We... We don't know him. We just found him." The brunette explained.

"Okay." The man climbed back on the driver seat.

"Wait!" Thomas ran to the man's window before even thinking of it. "Where are you taking him?"

"St Charles Hospital." The man answered.

Thomas nodded and stepped back to let the vehicle go away. He looked as it disappeared into the traffic, under curious gazes from people around. They went back to their work, Alby calling them and giving them the director's speech: it was sad but they had to focus on their work, deadlines, etc. Thomas had to double concentrate since his mind always came back to the young blond: why would a guy of his age do something like that? How could he be so desperate? The photography showed a happy family... Could it be that something had happened to all of them? Was he the only survivor of a terrible accident? Questions kept flooding in Thomas' brain as he fought to stay professional on his acting. They made the scene various times to get different reactions from the people passing nearby and even Brenda couldn't take Thomas' mind off the blonde stranger.

When the day finally ended, they all congratulated and thanked everyone for their work. The crew was splitting up as Brenda approached Thomas:

"Hey, it's time, let's go."

The brunette looked up to the girl: Brenda was also his flatmate, just like Minho. They were living together since their second year of acting studies and the Asian had join them on their third. He looked at her and then at Minho who was coming nearby and slowly shook his head:

"Go ahead. I'll see you home."

"Where are you going?" The actress asked even if she had a slight idea of the answer.

"St Charles Hospital." Thomas answered.

His friends nodded and let him go. He didn't thank them aloud for not arguing but he knew they got it. He just couldn't go back home right now, not as if nothing had happened, he wouldn't be able to sleep and he definitely would kept thinking about this guy for the rest of his life if he didn't talk to him at least once. He took two different buses to go to the hospital and couldn't stop fidgeting as he approached. Why did he need to go and see that guy? He couldn't really tell. He just had to. No matter what.

He arrived at the reception and saluted the woman at the desk. She smiled, asked if she could help and it was then Thomas realised he didn't know the blonde's name. He felt stupid but tried nonetheless:

"I... I'm looking for a blonde guy, around my age. We found him this morning at St Catherine abandoned church. He... He had opened his wrist. I'm sorry, I don't know his name but the driver of the ambulance told me he was bringing him here."

"I'll see what I can do." She turned to her computer. "Do you know what time it was?"

"Around eight this morning." Thomas shrugged, biting his bottom lip.

"Alright." She clicked the computer’s mouse and ran her fingers on the keyboard for a few seconds. "I might have a name. Newt Isaacs. He is in room number 207."

"Thanks, ma'am." The brunette smiled.

"Second floor on your left. The elevators are at the end of the corridor." She replied gently before going back to her work.

Thomas nodded and went in the direction the receptionist had told him. His heart began to beat louder in his ears as the doors of the elevator closed, leaving him alone in that small cubicle, alone with his thoughts. He inhaled deeply and pressed the button of the second floor, his thoughts mixing in a strange mess: now that he was there, he didn't really know what he wanted to do. The elevator's little signal took him out of his head and he went through the corridor, his eyes wandering to each room's number. The roof and ground were white, the walls a dark orange almost brown and the doors were pale yellow plastic like. He didn't like hospitals.

Not that he came often, but he really didn't feel at ease in those places. It was like walking in a place out of the world were all the feelings were exacerbated: either people were incredibly happy or dreadfully sad. He swallowed and quickened his space, a bit relieved to see room number 207. The door was half-opened and Thomas casted a glance inside: one bed was empty but on the other one was the blonde from earlier in the morning. He was awakened. He looked much better than in the morning: he was clean, his dishevelled blond hair made a halo around his head and even with the frown his face looked healthier. Thomas hesitated and knocked at the door to get the boy's attention.

"Hi."

The blonde looked up to him, his dark brown eyes locking into the brunette's fair ones, obviously wondering who he was. Thomas swallowed and entered, deciding to introduce himself:

"I'm Thomas. My friends and I found you this morning."

If the young man in the bed had seemed suspicious, he now looked angry and disdainfully looked away, to the window. Thomas felt as if a rock at fallen in his stomach: he didn't know what he expected of that meeting but it clearly wasn't that. He bit his bottom lip and murmured:

"Look... You don't have to thank us or-"

"Thank you?" The boy asked with a thick English accent, glaring back at him. "Well I'd be bloody inspired to do that. In case you didn't notice, I wasn't really planning on coming back."

Each word was acid and like a slap out of the blonde's mouth. He was clearly mad at him which wasn't totally surprising since he had tried to kill himself. So... Of course he might not like the fact that they had called an ambulance and all. Thomas pinched his lips and searched for his words.

"Listen... I know you're gonna say that it's not my business but... You shouldn't do something like that."

"You got it: it's none of your bloody business." The blonde spat out. "And now that you know you just made something stupid and totally irrelevant, go home. Get out of here."

"Well... Maybe I'm wrong but I don't think you really want to end like that." The actor murmured.

"Oh, so now you're an expert, right?" His hands had balled into fists on the sheets, an angry grimace on his face. "And what is it that made you think that, Sherlock?"

"You wouldn't just stay here, in that bed, with that blood transfusion if you really wanted to die. You'd try to find another way." The brunette shrugged and as he saw he had the blonde's attention, he added. "Plus I don't think that stopping you from dying was irrelevant."

"You don't know me." The blonde greeted between his teeth.

"No, I don't. But I'd like to." Thomas extended his hand towards him. "My name is Thomas. Nice to meet you."

The Brit was now looking at him as if the American boy was out of his mind. His eyes went from the brunette's eyes to his hand various times, making Thomas to laugh:

"It's just a hand, it's not gonna bite you."

"What's wrong with you?" The blonde frowned a bit more. "Are you a tosser or something?"

"I might." Thomas smiled, shrugging one shoulder. "But I'd like to know your name nonetheless."

"Why?" The Brit asked.

"Because you're not irrelevant."

The boy was still staring at him, frowning, visibly wondering if Thomas had all his head. But even if he didn't extend his hand to take the actor's one, he mumbled:

"Newt."

"Newt..." Thomas repeated, nodding and taking back his hand as it was obvious that the Brit wouldn't take it. "Nice to meet you."

"Let me guess, now you're gonna talk to me about God, or some sect, aren't you?" Newt growled.

"What? Oh, no. I don't believe in God." Thomas answered. "I mean. Probably there's something or someone up there... But I prefer to believe in myself."

"So why are you here?" The Brit insisted. "You called the ambulance. You're a hero. Yay. Why aren't you home calling your mom to tell her how great you acted today and how proud of you she should be?"

Once again, every word from the blonde was a dagger thrown at him. Thomas could feel that the boy wanted to hurt him, to push him away. Like a bruised wild animal that was all teeth and claws out. For whatever reason, he was really distrustful. Thomas couldn't blame him for that, so he decided to open up a bit first:

"Oh, I could. But they haven't installed a direct line to Heaven yet."

"... What..?" The blonde seemed taken aback by that, his defiance dissolving abruptly.

"My mom died in a car accident. She was parked in front of a store and a truck came. The driver had fallen asleep and only woke up when he collided with her car." Thomas explained patiently. "It was two years ago."

"God... I'm sorry..." Newt murmured, visibly regretting his earlier words.

He seemed much more accessible now, less distant. The brunette smiled gently, a bit weak because it still hurt like hell. But he had stopped crying since a few months. He slowly shook his head and looked at the blonde, his voice was full of emotion when he spoke but he managed to keep it clear:

"So... I know your life and decisions are no business of mine and I won’t ask you why you did this, but if you feel like you wanna talk, even to a complete stranger, then I can listen."

Newt stared at him with conflicted emotions. Anger, fear, distrust, hope, need... Thomas smiled gently and took a pen out of his bag, he approached the bed and took the boy’s valid arm to write on it.

"That's my number. If you need anything, or even if you just wanna talk... Feel free to call. Okay?"

He smiled at the incredulous look on the Brit's face as he read the numbers on his skin. Who would write on someone's arm to let his number, right? But at least, he was sure the blond wouldn't throw it away. He would have to wash it which meant he would have to think about it and it would make him doubt. The dark brown eyes look up at him as Newt was trying to read in him:

"Why?"

"Because one day, you will change someone's life. Just because you haven't done it yet doesn't mean this person doesn't exist." Thomas answered with a smile.

It was his mother's favourite words. And he strongly believed in them. Especially now he was in front of Newt. Perhaps the blonde was that someone he had to change the life. Perhaps not. But at least he would have tried. He shook the Brit's hand and wished him goodbye before leaving the room. Would he call? Or would he think that Thomas was some weirdo he should stay away from? The brunette didn't know what was in the boy's head, but at some point he wished he could do something for him, help him to find another solution than suicide. It couldn't be his only way out, right?

He stepped out of the elevator and walked toward the exit, his eyes wandering around him and looking to the different people he passed by. He wondered why they were there for, what kind of life they had to pull such faces, happy or sad. He shivered when arriving outside in the cold wind: winter was only two months from now but it was already pretty cold. He crossed the road to get to the bus station and stopped as he felt his phone vibrating. Fishing it out of his pocket he read the number: unknown.

"Hello?" He asked as he picked it up.

 _"Hi..."_ He immediately recognized the blonde's voice. _"It's Newt. We... Er... We just met a few minutes ago."_

"I know who you are." Thomas replied with a small smirk. "I don't have such a goldfish memory."

 _"I... If you still wanna listen..."_ The Brit hesitated. _"Could you get me out of here?"_

"I'll be right there."

And with those words, Thomas turned around and headed back to the hospital.

****

Newt sat at the first available table he saw in the hospital’s canteen, darting glances around as if he was out of place there with his blood transfusion, visibly thinking that everyone could read what he had done as if written on his face. Thomas paid for the hot drinks and took them to the table on a tray along with a chocolate muffin and a cheesecake. The Brit seemed surprised to see all that, having ordered only a tea, but he willingly took the muffin Thomas handed him.

They stayed silent for a few minutes, only appreciating their own beverage and food: the brunette didn't want to push the boy. Newt looked fierce and yet fragile: he was very thin almost skinny, his eyes were always looking around nervously and the sleeve of the hospital’s pyjamas didn't really hide the bandage on his wrist. His pale hands and fingers were almost delicate on his steaming cup. Eventually, the blonde’s deep and low voice took him out of his reverie:

"I don't really know why I called you to be honest."

"You wanted some company." Thomas offered.

"Yeah... Maybe." Newt shrugged. "I haven't talked to anyone for a while... I mean, a proper talk."

The brunette nodded, not wanting to interrupt, but the Brit stayed silent for another long moment, his eyes locked on his beverage, visibly in deep thoughts. Perhaps he was now regretting his call. Perhaps he didn't know how to say it. Thomas pinched his lips and decided to forestall:

"I won't force you. You're free to talk if you want to, just as you can just drink and eat and no more."

"You're kind of a nice fellow." Newt murmured, looking up at him. "The kind of person someone would like to take advantage of. Too nice..."

"Maybe." The actor shrugged. "But I don't plan to change. Because someone could need that nice guy one day."

"Do you always think about the others?" The blonde asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I try. But I can be a bit selfish too sometimes..." Thomas smiled.

The Brit slowly nodded, taking another sip of his hot drink. It was something very agreeable at this time of the year and his previous sweater wasn't visibly the best protection against the cold weather, neither were those present pyjamas. But he didn't complain. He looked back at his beverage and murmured:

"My parents threw me out... Well, my mother didn't really step up and my father isn't my father. Just her companion since I'm a kid." He shrugged. "I liked the guy and he always treated me well... But they didn't like it when I finally came out of the closet."

His fingers were nervously playing with his cup and he didn't look at his interlocutor. Maybe he was afraid of seeing any judgement in Thomas’ eyes, the brunette feeling sorry at this thought. Newt harshly swallowed and continued talking:

"It was as if I had done something terrible, you know. It was madness and we yelled and before I even realised, I was standing in front of the front door with my only backpack... Somehow I never got the chance to tell them what I really wanted to tell them that day..."

Thomas felt his heart ache a bit more at each word. He couldn't imagine experiencing such a thing, such rejection from the very people who were supposed to love you no matter what. He couldn't picture the scene in his mind since his parents had never been like that. Somehow, he knew he was luckier than many other people: his parents had always be pretty supportive no matter what. But somehow, he felt he hadn't heard it all yet and lowly asked:

"What was it? The thing you wanted to tell them."

Newt gulped. It visibly wasn't easy to formulate. He passed his tongue on his lips and bit hard on the bottom one, his breathing trembling as he inhaled deeply. His watering dark brown eyes looked up, locking in Thomas' as he whispered with despair:

"I'm positive."

Thomas felt like a slap. His mind was all blank. Positive? He stayed dumbfounded a long moment before he could speak again, finally finding words and putting them together, trying to make a sentence:

"Does that mean...?"

"I've got HIV." Newt said, his voice trembling lightly.

"But..." The brunette shook his head. "I thought that being seropositive and having HIV were two different things."

"Are they?" The blonde shrugged. "I'm sick. That's all I need to know."

"No, it's not!" Thomas exclaimed hastily. "The doctors can help you!"

"Listen..." Newt searched for the brunette's name.

"Thomas."

"Okay, listen, Tommy." The Brit spoke as if he was a teacher talking to a particularly slow kid. "Some people don't want to be helped, okay? And I don't want to be."

"Oh yeah?" The actor frowned. "So what are you doing here? Why did you call me for if you don't want help?"

Newt stayed silent, looking taken aback. Why had he call that guy he didn't even know? To speak a bit so he could feel a little better? Just that? No. Not really. He bit his bottom lip, feeling as if that brunette understood him better in a few minutes than anyone in his family had in many years. He sighed, passing his fingers in his blonde hair and looked at his interlocutor.

"Why? Why do you keep wanting to help me? Even when I tell you this? It's not like you haven't done your part by saving me this morning."

"Because you're not beyond help. And you called me: somehow, you want someone to help you, Newt. Somehow... You want to be considered. And if it’s by me, I’m totally willing to."

The Brit's eyes watered as the words flew out of Thomas' mouth. Hearing his name and those words... It was as if someone had put some calming balm on a burning bruise. He pinched his lips and dropped his gaze. He wished his family had tried as much as that stranger. Not to help him, just to understand. He jumped slightly as a warm hand covered his. The touch... No one would touch him as soon as they knew he was positive. He was sick. And yet that guy was touching his hand in comfort and smiling at him.

"It's okay, Newt... We're gonna go to the doctors and see what they can give you. It's not easy, but you have to fight, okay? Because you're not dead. So you have to keep fighting. There's so much you still need to see and feel. Don't give up now."

The tears escaped the Brit's eyes and ran freely on his cheeks. He slowly shook his head as a flow of emotions was hitting him, making him almost suffocate. Thomas thought that maybe he had pushed him a bit too far: maybe the blonde had already given up. But slowly, Newt turned his hand and took the boy's hand, squeezing it hard. His voice was broken when it came out of his mouth:

"How... How come you find so easily what I want to hear? You out of all the people... Out of my family...? How...?"

Thomas got up and took Newt in a tight embrace, feeling the warmness of his body, the way he tensed and then relaxed to grab him back and the blonde's fingers digging in his back. He heard Newt's trembling breathe as he was on the edge of breaking nerves, of falling apart, and he tightened his grip to keep him all together. He couldn't imagine leaving him just like that. He couldn't understand the Brit's parents.

Slowly, he let go of him, just to put his own scarf around the blonde's neck and he hugged him back, helping him on his feet. His voice was calm and soft, trying to be reassuring:

"Come on. Let's go. I'll stay with you."

Newt nodded and followed. They came back to the room where a female doctor received them, she presented herself as Mary Cooper. Her face was soft and smiling gently, her dark hair running freely on her shoulders. She took her time to clearly explain to the boys what to be seropositive meant and how they could treat it. Thomas had been right when saying that being seropositive didn't mean Newt had aids. He carried the virus in his blood but it didn't affect his body, or at least not yet. She told him that in many cases, thanks to the cure, if it was seriously followed with many medical visits, the patient could not even be contagious anymore.

Newt was listening carefully but Thomas wondered if he was taking in everything. It was a harsh experience. He couldn't even pretend to understand it. At some point, the doctor asked:

"Is your family aware of all this?"

"No. They didn't bother to hear it." The blonde deadpanned.

"I see." She nodded slightly, still smiling gently at him with concern in her eyes. "May I ask you how you got it?"

Newt casted a glance at the brunette. Perhaps he hadn't plan in telling him everything. Thomas smiled to him and got up, murmuring he would wait in the corridor. But the Brit caught his wrist, stopping him dead. His eyes were panicked and for a second, Thomas wondered if he was going to fall apart but Newt inhaled deeply and looked at him in the eyes:

"Can... Can you stay? Please?"

"Sure." The actor replied but he asked nonetheless. "Are you sure you want me here?"

The blonde hesitated, thinking, and then nodded slowly. Yes, he was sure. For Thomas was the only one who cared. The only being that Newt had the sensation to know, even if it was just a bit. The brunette came back to his seat and gave an encouraging smile to the Brit, which Newt was grateful for, focusing again on the doctor:

"I... I was lost. And... Really feeling out of my place. As if I didn't belong to that world. That I wasn't normal... So I went with some guys at a party and..." He paused, closing his eyes for a second as he insulted himself silently. "I was weak and accepted to take some drug... With a syringe."

There was a heavy silent as the doctor looked at Newt in sympathy. Thomas was all ears, his eyes wide as his stomach was tightening: the blonde had really experienced profound despair to get there. He must have feel so alone. So rejected. Thomas wanted to hug him tight and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even if he had no idea of it. Newt spoke again lowly:

"I chickened out. So I didn't push the drug into my veins... But the needle was in my arm... And it had been in others' before. It was too late when I took it out. I had it. Even if I understood it only four months later at a random blood examination."

"It's okay, Newt... We are not here to judge you. We are here to help you. You have a little fever but your CD4 rate, your immune cells rate, isn’t too low for now so I'm going to prescribe you medicines, and I want you to take them really strictly. Because it is the only way and your only chance to keep standing. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma’am." The Brit nodded briefly.

"And we will meet regularly so we can see how you're doing. I want you to come at every single appointment. Otherwise... Well it would be as if you had pushed too much of that drug into your veins that night." The woman murmured.

"I get it." Newt assured her, harshly swallowing.

"Do you have a place to stay? At your parents’ maybe?" The doctor asked, ready to note it.

Thomas looked back at the blonde. He hadn't told the woman that his parents had kicked him out, neither why. Newt opened his mouth but no sound came out, his eyes were like searching for an answer in the air and he finally bit his bottom lip. Of course not, he hadn't. Otherwise Thomas wouldn't have found him in an abandoned church. The brunette pinched his lips and spoke out:

"Yes, he has. Number 7 on Glade's Street. Flat 483."

Newt looked up at him in astonishment and incredulity. Was really Thomas proposing him to come in his home? He stayed dumbfounded for a few seconds until the doctor said something around "noted" but he wasn't paying attention. He looked back at her and tried to focus once more on her words as she explained what he would have to do during his cure, what the treatment implied, his chances of success and more.  He would have to go to the gym to maintain his body and mental and also to meetings for information about being seropositive, aids and all.

When they finished, the doctor proposed him a date for their next appointment and then let them leave after a nurse had taken out the blood transfusion and checked everything was all right, giving him explanations about how to take care of his wrist. As soon as they were out of the building after taking the blonde’s medicines, Newt caught Thomas' wrist:

"Wait."

"What?" The brunette asked.

"The address you gave for me..." The Brit murmured.

"It's my flat." Thomas smiled. "Well, actually it's mine and my roommates' too. Minho and Brenda. They are cool, you'll see."

"Why...? Why are you doing that?" The blonde insisted. "I mean... You already helped me this morning..."

"And what about it? I should think that I've done enough?" The actor raised an eyebrow. "You need a roof. I have place enough for one more. Plus I won't say that I helped you before I'm sure you'll follow that cure."

Newt stayed mouth opened at that and slowly shook his head: this guy was beyond his understanding. Really. But he was here, for him, like no one else had ever been. The Brit bit his bottom lip and nodded, following Thomas who led his path. They were walking in the night, going to the nearest bus stop, the brunette taking his phone to call his roommates:

"Hey Bren'. I'm coming back home. Listen, I have something to tell you. Someone's gonna come and live with us for a while......... Yeah. Him. His name is Newt....... Yes. So you don't mind?..... You're the best. Tell Minho, okay? See you."

"You didn't ask them before." The Brit noted, stunned.

"Yeah... But they are okay with." Thomas smiled.

"What did she say...?" Newt asked, a bit nervous, not imagining that a bunch of people could just accept some suicide boy so easily like it was no big deal.

"That she knew I'd do something like that." The actor laughed. "She knows me too well."

The blonde didn't really know what to think of that but he wouldn't complain: he had a place to stay at least for the night. He could rest a bit and think about what to do then. Maybe he could find an abandoned building or a refuge. Thomas was a nice soul but he definitely couldn't be thinking on allowing him to stay forever, not mentioning his roommates. They entered in the bus and he watched the lights of the city passing by the window, lost in his thoughts.

What could his family be doing right now? Had they been looking for him? Wondering where he had gone? Did his mother cry? Or was his sister missing him? He wondered, without letting himself the luxury of hope. His mom and sister hadn't say anything as his stepfather threw him by the front door. Maybe they were just eating in front of the television, as usual, not bothered by his empty chair... He sighed slightly at the hurt of that thought and jumped as he felt a hand on his arm: Thomas was looking at him with a small smile, his eyes full of concern.

"Hey... It's gonna be okay. Stop thinking."

"Why do you tell me that?" Newt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My... You always ask why, huh?" The brunette chuckled. "Just stop thinking. The thoughts you have when tired are your worst enemies."

"Oh..." The Brit was disturbed by his interlocutor's attention.

"Don't worry about Brenda and Minho. They are sweet." Thomas added.

Newt nodded, not knowing what to say back at that. He just let the brunette talk about those two, listening at his soft voice and trying to push away all his thoughts and questions. Just listening. He learned that Brenda was a strong feminist and a wild spirit, convinced she could do whatever she wanted by herself... Or just enslave a boy to do it, always with a lot of humour.

And Minho was a kind soul with a sharp sense of humour too. They all seemed pretty fine in Thomas' point of view but Newt felt his stomach clench more and more as they approached their destination. They would judge him, for suicide was never a good option in people's mind. It was never an option for those who had never been so despaired they thought there was no other escape. He was already imagining himself arguing and fighting with these people he didn't know... No, he wasn't feeling good. But Thomas kept talking, as if all of this was no big deal, not mentioning his suicide attempt even once during their way to his flat. He seemed so convinced that everything would be alright. How naive... But at the same time, Newt felt like he didn't have the right to push him away again. It was like he wanted him to leave him alone and, at the same time, he only wished for him to care and smile to him... When had he become so twisted?

 

**To be continued...**


	2. First night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt just arrives at Thomas' and has to face Minho and Brenda, the brunette's roommates. He never thought it would be easy, but now that he faces them, he fears to see the trio breaking because of him. Principally when Brenda clearly shows that she dislikes the situation.

"I don't know." Brenda blurted out after a few minutes of silence.

Minho looked up from the pizza their neighbour and friend, Frypan, had brought them, stopping his action of cutting it into slices. The girl has been unusually quiet since their roommate's phone call and the Korean knew it was a question of time before she spoke out her mind. She was now walking around, restless. He looked back at the pizza and continued to cut it, finally encouraging her to speak:

"What is it?" He knew damn well but the girl needed to talk it out.

"Min'... I know Thomas thinks he has to save the world but... Really? Are we going to keep a suicide boy in our home?"

"Well, we're not exactly speaking about a dog: it's not a forever situation. The guy gets back on his feet and he goes to live his life." The Asian stated. "It's not like we're gonna keep him here until his death."

"But what if it takes years?" Brenda insisted. "What if he decides that it's quite easy to live here with us, playing this card of poor suicide boy to make us keep him without doing anything?"

"That's not what's bothering you, is it?" Minho finished his work and sucked the tomato sauce on his fingers. "You know we wouldn't let anyone take advantage of Thomas' kindness slash naive blindness. So... What's eating your brain?"

His female roommate sighed deeply, with a frustrated expression on her face, and sat at the kitchen table, one hand running through her short black hair. She seemed to hesitate but then looked up back at him:

"What if one day we wake up and he's dead in our bathroom?" She shook her head. "I don't know if I can live with this constant fear of finding a lifeless body somewhere in our apartment."

Minho put the pizza in the oven, just waiting for Thomas to come back to heat it, and turned around to face Brenda. He knew she didn't speak non-sense and was just expressing her fear: she was the one who found her own father in the family house after he hung himself, when she was a kid. It had never faded from her mind. He crossed his arms, searching for the right words:

"Listen. We don't know who the guy is. So before we think about how he's gonna try to kill himself again, let's just meet the guy. Maybe he changed his mind. Thomas can be pretty persuasive when he wants to be."

"Min'. I'm sorry to destroy your oh-so-perfect world but... Seriously?" The girl shook her head. "He hasn't committed a suicide attempt at home, he did it in a shucking abandoned church! He didn't want anyone to stop him. It's not a scream for help: he really wanted to end it all. And Thomas' words won't change that."

The Korean boy stayed silent, looking at her. Somehow, he knew she had a point in her own way. But he couldn’t just agree with her: after all, if it wasn't for Thomas, he wouldn't even be there in the first place, having this talk with Brenda. He had always felt he owed the brunette and if his friend wanted to take some lost kid into their home, he wouldn't fight it as long as it wouldn't be a real threat for them. But Brenda was another problem... He sighed and murmured:

"They'll be there soon. Try to be nice."

Brenda inhaled as if she wanted to protest but thought better and remained silent: somehow, she knew it was useless to try to reason with her roommate. If he didn’t agree with you in the first seconds, he never would. She knew at least that much about him. Minho went to his room to take their air mattress and brought it to Thomas' room: they didn't had any spare room so as Thomas was bringing the kid home, he would be his responsibility. Arriving in the room, he sighed:

"Shuck... Is Thomas wanting to show an illustration of his damaged brain with his room? It looks like a shucking tornado has passed by!"

There were paper sheets everywhere. All the brunette’s lines or contracts or letters... Minho didn't know but it surely was a mess. He shook his head and put the sheets aside just to have enough place to put the air mattress: he wasn't his roommate's maid after all. When the mattress got ready, he went back to the kitchen, not looking to Brenda: he didn’t want to go through the topic again. Hearing the keys unlocking the door, he turned the oven on and turned to the door, crossing his arms.

The two boys entered and without really knowing why, Minho felt relieved to see the blonde walking on his own, vanishing the terrible image that had stayed in his mind since the morning: a pale lifeless figure. The guy seemed pretty anxious at meeting them, staying almost glued to Thomas. His name was Newt. Strange name. Brenda got up of her chair and offered him a big smile, presenting herself. The Korean wouldn't judge her, but somehow, he disliked her behaviour: of course it was better than saying out loud what she had told him earlier, but he didn't like when someone forced himself to be nice when thinking totally the opposite. He didn't see the point.

"And this is Minho."

"Hi." The Asian extended his hand before realising his own gesture: the boy had slit his wrist in the morning.

But Newt slightly pulled down his sleeve to hide a bit more the said wrist before extending his hand. So, he was ashamed. Without really knowing why, Minho felt better believing that. Newt didn't properly shake his hand, just offering him his fingers, but he had made the effort. There was an awkward silence, Brenda looking at their new comer as if waiting for him to say something, Thomas wondering by what he should start with... Geez, he had to do all the work, didn't he?

"I put an air mattress in Thomas' room. Put down your stuff and come back in the kitchen. We have one of Frypan's pizza."

"Frypan...?" Newt repeated, a bit startled.

"Our neighbour." Thomas explained. "His cooking is excellent."

"Is that so?" The blonde asked, trying to make conversation but visibly uneasy.

"Yeah, it's to die for." Minho let out.

There was a big silence at that. Had the Korean really said that? Thomas looked at him as if he had just told him Hitler was his new superhero and turned anxiously his gaze to their new comer. Brenda looked at Minho as if he was just the stupidest brat on Earth and Newt had a blank expression. The Asian wanted to throw himself by the window and believed that his roommates would be more than pleased to help. Too soon for those jokes. He cleared his throat and hastily turned around to go back in the kitchen:

"Well Thomas, why don't you show him around while I stay here and look after the pizza?"

"Right." The brunette pinched his lips. "Er... Newt? My room is that way."

The Brit followed him without any question and heard Brenda vehemently whispering something to Minho, apparently chastening him for his doubtful sense of humour. They went through the corridor and entered a room at the end of it. It was a room about fifteen meters square, with one big bed, a desk with a chair, a wardrobe, an air mattress and... Paper sheets everywhere. The air mattress was visibly the only place saved from Tornado Thomas. The boy let out an embarrassed laugh:

"Sorry for the mess... I'll tidy it so you won't sleep in my lines..."

"You're saying that as if I was gonna live here." Newt shrugged. "It's your room, do what you want."

"Listen... If it's because of Minho, I'm sorry. He has a shitty sense of humour sometimes." The brunette murmured.

"It's alright." The blonde shook his head before offering the slightest hint of a sly smile. "I was surprised but I actually found it funny."

Thomas was relieved and smiled slightly: he had been afraid that his roommate had made a real faux-pas as the blonde had stayed silent and inexpressive. He began to collect all the paper sheets on the floor so he could make a pile on his desk: he would classify them later. It was always later with Thomas anyway, especially when it had something to do with tidying his room. Meanwhile, he added:

"I'll make some room for your stuff in my wardrobe too. So you won't just live in your backpack."

Newt looked at him still stunned: was Thomas planning on him to stay for good? Or was he misunderstanding it completely? He hesitated, not wanting to make a fool of himself, but said eventually:

"I won't overstay my welcome here, you know."

"What are you talking about?" The brunette looked up at him as he continued his task at hand. "We gave this address to the doctor. Plus, you can stay here as long as you need."

"You... Listen, I am grateful for your help but..." Newt tried to make his point. "I mean, you haven't even discussed it with your roommates. You can't just tell them to take me in."

"Why would they disagree?" Thomas countered.

The Brit stayed baffled. At the expression on the brunette's face, he was clearly genuinely asking that. Newt didn't know what to answer. He slowly shook his head in disbelief and waited for Thomas to finish his tidying before following him into the kitchen: he didn't feel at ease at the idea of being alone with the roommates. They must be thinking of him as an intruder... He would in their place.

In the kitchen, Brenda offered him a big smile again, but her eyes didn't say the same. He couldn't really read them but he was sure he could see pity and distrust among other things. Pity was what bugged him the most: he had done this to himself, he didn't deserve any pity. Minho on the other side didn't smile much, only smirking time to time, making a joke or two. He didn't push him and Newt appreciated it. The Korean didn't hide that he was observing him, he seemed to be pretty straightforward and Newt had to admit that he liked it: he preferred to know what to expect from people. They began to eat and the Brit let out a loud moan as he masticate, the three roommates smiled and Minho chuckled:

"Didn't I tell you? This pizza is amazing."

"Yeah..." Newt teased. "It's to die for."

"You got it!" The Asian laughed, pleased that the blonde repeated his words. "Glad you didn't take it badly, I speak before thinking most of the time. Sorry."

"It's alright." The Brit shrugged with the hint of a smile. "I still have a sense of humour."

"Good that." Minho beamed. "'Cuz I'm a living joker."

"I warned him about you." Thomas smirked. "About you and your doubtful sense of humour."

"Doubtful? I'm hurt." The Korean sighed theatrically.

"What about you?" Brenda cut in, watching their new comer. "We didn't really get to know you and since you're gonna live here, I'd like to know a bit more about you."

It was sudden and straightforward. Her words hang in the air as a heavy silence installed itself in the kitchen. In Newt's point of view, it was pretty fair enough that she distrusted him. It was a normal behaviour compared to Thomas'... So why was he suddenly so tensed? He slowly swallowed his mouthful of pizza and murmured:

"You know my name already. I'm 20. I..." He searched for words: what could he say more than that? "I've been in Art College for two years now."

"So you're a Picasso." Minho nodded, slightly dissipating the tension in the air. "So you paint?"

"I'm more drawing, sketching things... But yeah, I can paint too." Newt approved, relaxing a little.

"What about your family?" Brenda insisted. "Aren't they gonna worry about you staying here?"

"Brenda..." Thomas groaned.

"Well, sorry if you already know all the story, Tom. I've got the right to know too, just as Minho, since he's gonna live here." The girl frowned at him.

There it was. Newt could understand why she was upset, and he hated already the idea of being the reason of a fight. Thomas was a nice guy, too nice in the Brit's point of view, and he couldn't just arrive in the brunette's life like a tornado that would destroy everything. And he had to admit that some part of him hated the girl being so nosy about him, even if he could understand why. Understanding and accepting were two different things, he knew it too well. Thomas stepped in:

"Geez, Bren'. Why do you have to be so aggressively intrusive?"

"Well, why do you have to be so secretive, then?" Brenda countered.

Newt's head was spinning. He already wanted to get out of here. He was trouble. These guys probably didn't fight on an everyday basis. He pinched his lips and knew he had to say something. Something like he was going to leave, let them be. The guy had just stepped into his life like a light in the dark and he had clung onto him. He should have known better. His brain was already processing in searching a place for the night when Minho suddenly banged his fist on the table, making everyone to jump.

"Guys. Shuck up." He deadpanned in a tone that clearly didn't expect any answer. "Thomas, you brought Newt here, so I trust you on this. He's your responsibility. Brenda, knowing all Newt's life tonight or tomorrow won't change anything right? The guy had a rough day, give him a break, will you? And Newt?"

"Yeah?" The blonde unconsciously straightened a bit at hearing his name in the Asian's mouth.

"Eat, you shank." Minho commanded. "You're giving your pizza the false hope it's gonna survive this night and get to see tomorrow. It's cruel."

Newt stayed dumbfounded: had the guy really finished his imperious speech by a joke? Really? He looked at Thomas who was maybe hesitating between laughing and swallowing his pizza, resulting on a guy half laughing, half choking on his food. Brenda had pinched his lips, visibly disagreeing in letting go but didn't protest this time and resumed eating. The Brit hesitated and finally decided to eat as the Asian had commanded him, admitting that his intervention had erased some tension in the air. Now only the girl seemed uneasy and, for some reason, he didn't care that much.

"Minho?" He asked.

"Hm?" The boy muffled in his mouthful.

"What is it you called me? A "shank" or something like that?" The blonde frowned, trying to correctly remember the word.

"Don't answer, Min'. Your mouth is full and you know it's disgusting." Thomas prevented the Asian to talk, cutting him straight ahead before looking back at Newt. "It's kind of slang from our work: our director doesn't want us to swear or use F words on set, etc. So we kinda invented a way to say the words without saying them."

"Oh..." Newt raised an eyebrow, perplex.

"For "shank", well, it depends of the context. The way you say it. It can be affective or an insult." The brunette explained.

"In your case it was affective." Minho said to his own defence. "I can say "Hey, shank, what's up?" or if Thomas didn't clean the dishes like this morning "What a shank!". Everything is in the tone."

"I see." The Brit's eyes smiled even if his mouth seemed to have trouble to follow.

"You will hear us say "shuck" pretty often too." Thomas smiled. "We use it instead of "fuck". God, I even find it weird to say fuck now..."

"It will come pretty easily. You'll see." The Asian grinned. "I'm sure that in a few days you'll be able to say to Thomas that he is the shuckiest shuckfaced shuck in the world."

Thomas laughed at that, shaking his head and punching his roommate in the shoulder. Newt watched them and felt somehow a bit better, more at ease: maybe he could stay for a while after all... Maybe it would be easier than he thought...?

Suddenly, a movement at the Korean's side remembered him of Brenda. The girl had said nothing, eating her pizza without a word. She got up and put her plate into the sink before saying:

"I'm tired. Going to bed."

And with that, she left. There was an awkward silence in the kitchen and Minho and Thomas exchanged glances. Newt felt the small relief he had felt vanishing to let place at a terrible feeling of being out of place and guilt. He inhaled deeply and murmured:

"I'm sorry but... I'm not hungry anymore..."

And before one of the boys could say anything, he fled to Thomas' room. He was exhausted and knew he was being more emotional than the usual. Without waiting, he let himself fell on the air mattress and closed his eyes. Right now he just wanted to disappear, to hear nothing more... His last thoughts were to his family before the sleep overtook him.

Thomas sighed deeply when the blonde literally ran away. He passed his hands on his face and then looked at Minho: the Asian shrugged one shoulder and took the Brit's plate, putting it on his empty one before eating the last bit of pizza. The brunette bit his lower lip and murmured:

"Min'...?"

"Yeah?" The Asian swallowed his mouthful.

"Did I..." Thomas sighed and mumbled. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What do you mean?" His friend gave him his full attention now.

"Newt said... That I hadn't even asked you before inviting him in. And..." The brunette exhaled in frustration as he struggled to find his words. "I wondered why he thought that it would bother you guys, but now that I saw Brenda's reaction... Min', tell me... Was I selfish?"

Minho looked carefully at him. Thomas seemed truly affected by what had just happened. He never let anyone see him doubting, except for Minho: he was his confident time to time. The Korean pinched his lips for a second and shrugged:

"Not more than the usual, Thomas. You do think about the others most of the time, but you still struggle to understand when people think differently than you do."

"Does it mean that Newt's presence bothers you too?" His roommate murmured.

"No. Plus I'm no one to judge you on that: remember that I wouldn't be here if it wasn't thanks to you." Minho stated. "Brenda has her own reasons. Give her time. She'll come around eventually."

"Alright..." Thomas slowly nodded. "But it's your home too, so if you have something to tell me, just talk, okay?"

"Did I ever hide you something?" The Asian smirked.

"Not that I recall. Not even your dumbest jokes." The American laughed.

Minho got up and stretched before walking away. He stopped near the door and threw a last glance towards his flatmate, just adding:

"Take care of him. Just like you use to do. If you were meant to help him, he will get back on the track."

"Thanks, Min'." Thomas smiled.

"If you're really thankful, do the dishes. ‘Night." The Asian grinned, fleeing to his room.

"You, shuckface!" Thomas called, but smiled nonetheless.

He felt better. For Minho never forced himself to do something he didn’t want to, which meant he agreed in helping Newt. Now, he only had to deal with Brenda, to make her understand that they could do something, they could help him. He was sure of it. A bit grumpily, he did the dishes and tidied the kitchen before going to his own room. 

When he pushed the door, the light was still on and he found the blonde on his air mattress, in a foetal position, his clothes still on. Thomas wanted to slap himself, remembering that the boy didn't have any others than the ones he was wearing. He should have known. He slightly shrugged, scratching the back of his head and approached the sleeping Brit. Newt was deeply asleep, his features had softened and made him look younger. Thomas smiled and went to take a cover to put on him, before changing himself into comfy pyjamas and heading to his own bed.

He was sure it would be alright. Or at least as right as it could be.

 

**To be continued...**


	3. The accident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt goes through his first day at the apartment.

When he first opened his eyes, Newt wondered where he was. He needed a few seconds to remember the day before: he had tried to kill himself, he had ended up in a hospital and had met that Thomas guy who thought he needed to save him. He remembered the roommates, Minho and Brenda, and the awkward moment during the dinner... He remembered also that he had no family anymore. With a heavy sigh, he got up and looked around but there was no one to be seen. What time was it?

His eyes searched for a clock but with the mess all around, he guessed he would never find one even if his life depended on it. Searching in his backpack, he found his phone with low battery and... No phone call nor any message. His mother and sister hadn't even tried to reach him. Somehow, he just wanted to lie down again and stay there. But his stomach growled something different and he got up. The apartment was silent as he walked carefully. The others must be out, working, or shopping, whatever it was they did in their normal lives. He arrived in the kitchen and stopped, his eyes on the table: there was a glass, a cup and a bowl, a cereal box, cookies, and a message. He walked in and took the piece of paper, his eyes running along the words:

_"Hey, Newt._

_Hope you slept well. I didn't ask you what you eat in the morning so feel free to look around. Didn't ask for your mobile phone neither, you have mine, send me a text, okay?_

_See you._

_Thomas."_

The Brit didn't really know how to feel, but somehow it warmed his heart. It felt like a friendly hug. He slightly smiled and put the message back on the table before seating and taking a cookie. He wasn't the type of person who ate in the morning but the day before had been pretty rough. He didn't dare "looking" around in the kitchen though and just tidied the table, putting everything neatly aside.

He headed for a shower and took off his clothes before his eyes stopped on the bandage at his wrist. The doctor at the hospital had given clear instructions about it. He slowly took the bandage off to let out his mistreated skin: it was ghost like and damp, the cut had been neatly stitched. It was dark red, the skin looking greyish on the border of the cut, scarred by black chirurgical thread... God, it looked like a wound from a zombie series. He kept studying a long minute before getting into the shower, closing the transparent door, and turning on the water. It slid on him like a warm caress. Almost burning. He winced when feeling it running on his wrist and decided to clean it carefully before cleaning the rest. Shampoo was clearly the best moment, even if he couldn't use his wounded arm. It was a good thing that the water fell directly from above.

When finished, he put clumsily a towel around his waist, not daring to force on his damaged wrist, and took another look at it. He had to put Vaseline on it to keep it damp and then put a new bandage. His mind was blank as he proceeded, the thoughts only coming when he was done: what if Thomas and his friends hadn't been there? He had awakened in the hospital, but didn't recall any thought he could have had during his unconsciousness. What would have happened if he had died? Was there something after death? He wasn't religious, but his mind couldn't just imagine that there was nothing.

The sudden sound of a phone ringing torn him out of his dreadful thoughts. He hot up and walked out the bathroom to find the crying machine. A phone... Maybe he could try to call his mother or his sister... His eyes fell on the digital screen and he saw a name with a number: Shuckface. He stayed dumbfounded for a second and when he finally thought of picking up, the phone stop ringing. Should he had picked that? He wondered but shrugged it off: first, no one knew where he was, second, no one would phone him. The nickname meant it was a friend of the roommates... Or someone they didn't want to talk to.

He went back to Thomas' room and thought about getting dressed when the phone rang again. He sighed and didn't go. The person could leave a message, right? He looked around and saw a pile of clothes with a note "Newt" on it. It was a pair of jeans, an orange t-shirt, a white sweater and black socks. All of it was Thomas', judging by the size: they were more or less the same height but the brunette was bulkier than him. He put them on and stayed a moment like this, looking down at the clothes: why did Thomas do all this? They didn't know each other... And they hadn't quite meet in the best way either. So why?

His phone buzzed, making him jump and his heart missing a beat. Was it a text from his mother? His sister? He fell on his knees and searched for the device, founding it near his backpack. His fingers pressed the side buttons to light up the screen and the sudden rush broke into disappointment: the only message he could read on the screen was "Very low battery". He sighed and put the phone in his pocket. Soon he would be unreachable... And more than that, it had been two nights, didn't his mother or sister care where he was? Didn't they care at least to know how he was doing? The phone in the flat chose this exact moment to ring again. And it was the last straw.

He got on his feet and stormed out of the room, reaching the screaming machine in what must have been a record time. The same name lit on the display and Newt almost tore up the device from its base before literally shouting at it:

"They are not fucking home! Can't you just leave a bloody message instead of calling again and again?!"

_"I guess that means you're fine."_ Thomas' voice chuckled on the phone.

"What...?" The Brit was a little taken aback.

_"I didn't receive any message so... I was wondering if you were still sleeping."_ The boy murmured.

"So you called three times to get sure I'll be up?" Newt raised an eyebrow. "It's not my place, and I'd definitely wouldn't naturally pick up when seeing "shuckface" on the screen."

_"Urgh... Minho..."_ Thomas growled.

The situation was surreal. Newt couldn't believe he was having this conversation with the brunette, it didn't make any sense. But something caught his attention: the boy on the line was breathing heavily, as if he had been running. Was he calling just after filming a running scene or something? He frowned, his brain still working on this as he asked:

"You didn't call three times just to make sure I was up, did you?"

_"No, I... It's time for your meds..."_ Thomas murmured sheepishly. _"I... I know you're gonna say it's none of my business but... The beginning is always tough so... I wanted to remind it to you so you don't forget."_

Newt felt like a pang in his guts. The meds... His brain had visibly voluntarily forgotten about that. He knew he had to take them but... He bit his bottom lip: was it even worth it? He had death itself in his blood... He had heard a lot about HIV at school and on TV and had never heard about any miraculous medication... He didn't know much in fact... But the doctors weren't just trying to give him some useless hope? He stayed silent for a moment and listened to Thomas' breath at the phone: he was inhaling deep and fast... Has he been running? Looking down, Newt frowned when something caught his eye: a shadow under the front door. He went to it, opening the door wide and stayed silent in front of the brunette.

Thomas was a little short-winded, trying to catch his breath, his cheeks flushed... He visibly had been in a hurry. But why? To come back here? The blonde looked at him a long minute, making his interlocutor uneasily smile as he hung up:

"Hey..."

"What are you doing here?" The Brit frowned.

"I huh..." The American boy gulped, searching for words, and then sighed before admitting. "I was worried..."

"About what?" Newt insisted coldly, but somehow knowing the answer already.

"You didn't text or answer the phone... So..." Thomas dropped his eyes.

"So you wondered if I wasn't somewhere in your apartment, drowning in my blood?" The blonde knew his voice was rising with the anger. "After all, am I not a fucking suicide kid?!"

"What...?" The brunette was now looking at him with wide eyes.

Of course. Newt should have known better. Of course they would think that. That he wouldn't care about anything else then get rid of his stitches just to see life leaving his body along with his blood. And that twat saying he had faith in him! He shook his head, knowing that a little voice in his head was trying to put some sense in his thoughts, yapping that the poor guy didn't even know him and had probably said he trusted him because it was what he needed to hear at that time. But no, anger was stronger, much stronger...

"Looks like your bloody roommate did a wonderful job making you think I would try to cut myself again! Why not, right?! I did it once, why not twice? I might want open my veins again just to see the astonishing bright colour of my blood again?!"

He hadn't yell like that to anyone, except maybe to his stepfather on the night he was kicked out. His blood was boiling in him, his heart rushing erratically in his chest. His vision somehow blurred with twinkling stars and he heard Thomas' voice saying his name, distorted as if in a dream. He leant against the wall and blinked, feeling light headed. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders and made him stay on his feet a few seconds, just enough to let the dizziness go away.

"Hey Newt, calm down." Thomas said in a resolute tone. "You haven't plenty recovered. So don't upset yourself by talking non-sense."

Newt wanted to answer with a sarcastic remark, but the words died in his throat as his eyes focused on Thomas': there was such sadness in them, a bit of fear too... The few seconds of hesitation permitted Thomas to speak out:

"I never thought you might have decided to try to kill yourself, Newt..." He sighed and murmured. "I was just afraid you’d left... Since I have no way to contact you... Yesterday you called me from the hospital phone, remember? I feared you had left... Because of yesterday evening."

Newt's eyes widened at these words. He shivered when the warmth of Thomas' hands left his shoulders. The brunette shook his head and sighed, passing a hand in his dark strands: he seemed searching for something to say and in the same time, he looked resigned. The Brit's throat tightened and he dropped his eyes in shame. He had expected the worst, he had thought, against all the guy's kindness, that Thomas wasn't sincere, that he didn't trust him. But wasn't Newt the one doubting himself? He difficultly swallowed and looked up at his host.

His eyes were burning as he saw his vision blur slightly. But he resolutely looked into Thomas' eyes as he spoke the words in a murmur:

"I'm sorry."

He didn't want to cry and the tears didn't betray him, staying at the edge of his eyes. He didn't know what to say exactly or how to say it and it was strangling him. Thomas looked back at him and gently smiled before nodding and his voice was soft as he said:

"It's alright. You have all the right to be upset." He smiled a bit more when his interlocutor shook his head. "Take your medicine and rest. There are videogames and movies in my room. You can also charge your phone with my charger if it's not an iPhone."

"I won't live depending on you." Newt replied instantaneously.

Thomas' eyes widened slightly at that, surprised of how easily the blonde had understood most of Brenda's concerns. He smirked and looked at Newt in the eyes: the Brit had always this fierce will shining in them. The brunette even wondered how this guy could have attempted suicide. It only showed him a bit more how much Newt had been desperate. His smirk lasted a bit more and he stated:

"You will until you get better. So take care of yourself if you don't want to depend on me."

It was Newt's turn to look dumbfounded. Thomas wanted to laugh at his expression but forced himself to only smile and walked out of the flat, wishing his new roommate a nice day and telling him they should be back for dinner. As soon as the door closed, the brunette's smile faltered: had he said the right thing? He didn't really know the guy. Maybe Newt wouldn’t get his humour? Would he be alright? Newt looked like he had a strong will but... He had also cut his wrist not longer than the day before.

He pinched his lips and forced himself to walk and look up: he had to stop thinking like that. He had said he trusted him with that; that he believed in him. He couldn't doubt now. As he left the building, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and fished it out.

_"Work your ass off instead of checking on me. I don't want to depend on some guy that gets fired because he's skipping work."_

Thomas barked out of laugh at that, feeling relieved. After all, Newt had a strong temper, he didn't have to worry. Everything would be alright. He took a cab and went back to his work, being scolded by Alby for being late: he had been gone during his break and had come back ten minutes late. He apologised and ran to the make-up stand. Teresa smirked at him:

"You'll get in troubles one day if you keep having problems with being on time."

"I won't be late anymore. It was the last time." Thomas smirked back.

If Teresa was surprised by the sudden resolution in her friend's tone, she didn't say it and did her job: the sooner she would be done, the less Thomas would be in troubles with Alby. It took her only a few minutes since the brunette didn't need a lot of make-up, just enough to look well on camera, and soon Thomas had joined Gally and Minho: today they had to be pretty heavy with Brenda who supposedly didn't know them. She was wearing a wig and Teresa had had a lot of work to transform her since her face was pretty known thanks to the show.

Gally looked at him as he arrived nearby and then away to their set of the day. Thomas smirked: he knew damn well when his co-worker wanted to say something but hesitated to speak. He sighed slightly and, as Alby was barking orders here and there already, he murmured:

"You want to tell me something, am I wrong?"

At the other side of the street, he spotted Brenda, waiting for everyone to be ready and staring at him. His absence had surely make her brain boil with ideas and suppositions. Gally grunted, not looking at him neither as he groaned low enough to be only heard by Thomas:

"Brenda told me you guys took the suicide kid from yesterday in..."

"His name is Newt." The brunette cut him.

He really disliked the idea of everyone calling Newt "the suicide kid": it was as if his whole existence was resumed at that only thing he had done. And there was so much more about him, Thomas was sure of it, he just didn't know it yet because the Brit hadn't said much apart from his family and situation, which was already huge since they only knew each other for one day. Those dark brown eyes were full of emotion, like the tornado that must be inside of his head.

Gally seemed to process the correction and nodded slightly before resuming talking with a sigh: he didn't like to be interrupted. But Thomas had had to, right?

"Are you sure about this? Taking this Newt in? You don't know him. He might as well-"

"Try to kill himself in our flat?" The brunette cut him again, and he knew he was playing with fire doing that, but he didn't care as long as he was making his point.

Gally opened his mouth, searching for words that didn't come. He finally sighed heavily and nodded, admitting that it was what he had been thinking. Thomas just smiled as he looked at his friend in the eye:

"He's not like that."

"You don't know him." Gally countered.

"I know that much." The brunette replied instantaneously. "Now shut up, it our turn."

The day went pretty quickly: the time seemed to fly when they worked. Soon enough, Thomas was sweating and feeling tired, not surprised when looking at his watch and finding out that it was already almost 6 o'clock. They had almost finished, Alby interviewing the last people that had stopped and intervened in their shooting, so they would be on their way soon. He walked to Teresa and asked her to clean his face from all the make-up he had, which she obliged with a smile:

"If I had known back in high school that you would ask me to take off your make-up."

"Very funny, T." Thomas groaned. "Can you just do it? I wanna be home."

"Back to your new roommate?" The blue eyed girl smirked. "What's his name again? Newt?"

"Yeah..."The actor looked up to his friend. "Thanks, T."

"For what?" Teresa raised an eyebrow while continuing her job.

"Calling him my roommate and then his name." Thomas murmured. "I can't stand the others calling him "the suicide guy" all the time."

"It affects you..." The make-up artist frowned slightly, getting worried. "You don't know him, Tom."

"I just find it very sad." He almost whispered. "Like very, very sad. Being judged only on this."

Teresa finished her work in silence. Thomas was the kind of guy that saw everything from a different perspective, making sometimes people uneasy because he felt sad about things that didn't mattered to them. Or worrying about people that everyone just wanted to get away from. She smiled and murmured:

"Just watch out for yourself, okay? If he's a good guy, this Newt is very lucky you found him. If he's not, then you'll get hurt and I'll kill him."

"I'll take oranges to you when you're in prison, T." The brunette laughed.

"I knew I could count on you." She smirked. “You want me to drive you guys back home? I have my car today.”

“That would be cool.” Thomas nodded.

“And I could meet Newt.” She beamed.

“I knew it wasn’t without interest.” He groaned and shook his head.

They laughed and went back on the set where Brenda and Minho were waiting for their roommate. Brenda didn’t look at him and Thomas didn’t fight it: he wasn’t in the mood for that and was getting a bit stressed about Teresa meeting Newt. Was he ready for that? Or would he think that they were watching him as a curious thing? He didn’t want to upset him: in the morning, he had seen that the blonde shouldn’t be upset. Not yet.

They went in the car and Thomas stayed silent, wondering how all this would end up. Brenda’s behaviour was getting on his nerves but he knew she had all the right: she was probably as stressed as him to get back home. He sighed and tried to relax, his brain providing him an image of the Brit in their flat, reading a book in his room. Yeah, Newt was probably a book guy. It fitted him.

"Guys..." Minho called from the front seat, and something in his voice displeased Thomas.

"What?" He asked, Brenda and him leant in.

"What is an ambulance doing in front of our building?" The Asian murmured, a bit tensed.

Thomas' heart skipped a beat. He saw the red vehicle and heard Brenda whispering a swearing. As soon as Teresa pulled over a few meters behind the ambulance, they all got out of the car and raced into the building. Thomas stopped in the hallway, spotting Newt sitting in the stairs, his skin paler than ever, the shadow under his eyes seemed more present, and the sweat on his face wasn't good. There was blood on his sweater, on his sleeve...

"Newt!" Thomas called and ran to him. "What happened?"

The blonde seemed to finally notice them, tearing his eyes away from the guardian's door where the ambulance men were running in and out. He looked at them as if troubled, he opened his mouth and shook his head before dropping his eyes. Thomas gulped and kneeled in front of him, catching the Brit's hands to get his attention and shivering as his right hand slightly slipped on the blood.

"Newt... Talk to me."

“Don’t touch me!” Newt yelled, taking his hand away.

Thomas felt his heart sink at that but didn’t insist: he needed to know what had happened and for that he needed the Brit to calm down. Somehow, he knew it wasn’t against him: it wasn’t that Newt didn’t bare his touch, no. He didn’t want Thomas to touch his blood. The brunette inhaled deeply to force himself to focus and nodded:

“Alright, alright. No one’s gonna touch you. Just tell me what happened.”

"I went out." The blonde almost whispered, embracing himself. "To the grocery store nearby. Needed eggs. And when I came back, that old woman was walking down the stairs..."

The brunette frowned slightly, not getting where this story was going but he decided not to interrupt the Brit who seemed pretty shaken. His dark brown eyes kept returning to the guardian's door, his voice threatening to break as emotion seemed to flow in him:

"She just smiled and say hi and... She suddenly slipped when passing by me. I tried to catch her, I grabbed her hand and..." He shook his head and dropped it.

"And what, Newt?" Thomas encouraged him. "What happened?"

“My stitches tore. I... The pain. My hand let go of her.” Newt’s voice was no more than a murmur. “She hit the ground... I cried for help as loud as I could. The guardian arrived and called the ambulance...”

The brunette’s insides were upside down at the story. He hardly swallowed and immediately looked at the blonde’s wrist. A medic had apparently already taken care of it since a bandage had been neatly put on the wound. He sighed and looked up at his friends. Teresa was looking at the Brit with sympathy, Brenda was staring at the red marks down the staircase in horror and Minho had already reached the guardian’s door. Thomas didn’t know what to say, where to start, but he didn’t need to because Newt spoke first:

“I couldn’t catch hold of her... I let her fall...”

“No, no, no. You listen to me, okay?” Thomas bent to be able to meet the boy’s eyes. “It’s not your fault. You did right. You tried to save her.”

“And I failed!” The blonde almost shouted.

“Newt...” Teresa kneeled in front of him, caring not to touch him since he had rejected Thomas. "You can cry. You can fall apart if you want to. But none of it will help her now. You tried to save her and it's all that matters. If she is to die now, the last thing she saw was a blond guy she didn't know and who tried to grab her hand as she fell. If she is to survive this, then maybe you will be the slight difference that saved her life. So you see, you did well. It's all that matters."

Newt looked at her with red eyes. He wanted to cry really, feeling useless and helpless. But somehow, her words echoed in his mind: maybe that woman would survive. Maybe he had made the difference. Thomas gently brushed his leg through the fabric of his jeans and the gesture slowly calmed him down as they could hear the voices coming from the guardian's apartment. Through the clothes, it was okay... He could bare the touch if it was though his clothes.

Eventually, Minho came back to them, turning his back to the apartment. He jogged to them and informed them that the woman was alive for now and would be carried to the hospital. Newt nodded slightly, feeling dizzy.

"The doctor told me you've lost a bit of blood. Considering you've lost quite a lot of blood only yesterday, you will feel weak and tired. But you will be fine, okay?" The Asian informed him.

"Okay..." The blonde was indeed feeling as if his eyelids were heavy.

"I'll carry you to our flat." Minho was already putting a kneel on the ground.

"I can walk." Newt frowned, his words slurring.

"You have two option here, my friend." The Korean raised a finger at each proposition. "First option, you let me willingly carry you to our place. Second option, I knock you down and carry you, unconscious, to our place. Your choice."

The Brit pulled a face but slowly nodded. Thomas noted how the blonde hid his wounded wrist, visibly not willing for any of them to only touch his blood. And none of the others could possibly know it... The brunette watched as his roommate took Newt into his arms, bride style, and went up the stairs; sadness clouded his heart for the blonde was so painfully aware of the sickness running into his veins.

When they arrived at their floor, Newt had fallen asleep against Minho's collarbone. He seemed very tired and fragile. Thomas opened the door and let everyone in, Minho taking the Brit to the brunette's room; he bit his lower lip and looked back to Teresa:

"Sorry, T. I..."

"I'm not staying." The make-up artist cut him. "It's not the right moment, I get that. Watch over him. I'll meet him another time."

Thomas smiled, glad that Teresa was so understanding. She said goodbye to Brenda and him and left the flat. Brenda stayed silent for a moment before turning her gaze to Minho who was coming back from the room.

"He sleeps." The Korean informed them. "The doctor said he would be weak for a few hours at least but he must eat dinner."

"I'll bring him a tray in my room." Thomas nodded.

Brenda didn't say anything, looking into the kitchen: the table was set for four people. She stepped in and looked into the pan on the gas: the blonde had cooked for them... Somehow, she felt bad for thinking the worst of him only a few minutes earlier. But a little voice in her head, stronger than reason, called fear, was viciously whispering that maybe the blonde was just trying to buy their sympathy. As if saying he wasn't just sleeping there but helping too. Just in order to stay. She swallowed as that thought wandered in her mind.

"Bren'?" Thomas called, catching back her attention.

The girl looked up at him. Maybe she could say something about all this, about her still distrusting the blond boy, about how confused she felt about the entire situation... She just sighed and murmured:

“Just take care of him. He’s your responsibility.”

And with that, she turned her heels and headed to her room, under the stupefied stare of her roommate. Thomas turned his gaze to Minho who simply shrugged:

“At least she told you to take care of him. Well help me there, shank. We’re gonna cook something edible and try not to murder our new friend with poisoned food.”

Thomas agreed with a smirk and helped his friend to prepare dinner. Minho was used to cook pastas, rice and simple preparations but what he did was very good, opposed to Thomas who knew various recipes but couldn’t get one right so he preferred to help his friend by preparing the ingredients, even if they didn't have much to do since Newt had begin to prepare something. The Korean didn’t need to speak really but he knew his friend had quite a lot in his mind:

“Newt seems to be a good guy.”

“Yeah.” The brunette nodded. “I hope that granny will be fine.”

“Hard to know.” Minho sighed. “The older, the more fragile."

“Don’t say that.” Thomas whined, trying to visualise what Newt had seen.

The Asian put the food in the plates and prepared a tray for their new roommate before handing it to Thomas:

“Bring this to Newt. See if he eats. And if not... Well, make him.”

The brunette stayed silent for a moment, watching his friend. Minho had never said anything against Newt. He accepted him and more than that, he wanted and tried to help. Out of friendship for him. Thomas smiled slightly and whispered:

“Thanks, Min’.”

And he headed to his room in order to make Newt eat a bit.

 

**To be continued...**


	4. Looking for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wouldn't let go, not like that. Sonya keeps looking for a way to find her brother, meanwhile Newt is recovering from the granny incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for te delay: I've been in the hospital for a week at the beginning of the month and I am still slowly recovering. I hope I can work faster on the next chapter. Thank you for your understanding.
> 
> Chapter not betad.

Sonya opened her eyes as soon as her alarm went on. She sat in her bed and cut it. This alarm was so horribly different from the little soft music she had on her mobile. But her mobile wasn’t an option anymore. She look down at her pillow, or better said her brother’s pillow: it was one of the few things she got the time to take and hide in her own room before her stepfather shut-away her brother’s room. She grabbed it and nestle her head in the pillow, inhaling Newt’s smell. She didn’t even get to say a word to him that evening. Where was he now? She sighed and let go of the pillow and the familiar scent, getting out of her room.

“Oh, Sonya.” Her mother was in front of the bathroom. “Good morning, honey, did you sleep well?”

The blonde teenager turned her hazel eyes to her mother, not even trying to hide her contempt for her. She simply looked away and went downstairs, not responding at another call from her mother. Why would she answer anyway? She got into the kitchen and went straight to the table to take her breakfast, not looking or talking to the other being in the room: her stepfather.

“Well, hello, Sonya. How are you feeling today?”

The girl simply ate her cereals, not answering. Janson was like a father to her: he had been there as long as she could remember, her mother and him living together since she was less than one year old. But right now, even if her brother and she hadn’t exactly been the closest, she couldn’t bear how things had literally be smashed into bits. And the fact that now she was feeling like in prison didn’t help.

“Are you going to continue with the silent treatment? Seriously, Sonya?” Her stepfather sighed.

It was almost a habit now to disregard the man. She simply ate her breakfast in silence, looking everywhere but at him. Janson slowly nodded and approached, sitting in front of her, watching her as she looked outside. She knew he felt now like he had to be in control, but she wouldn’t please him by answering any of his questions.

“Sonya... Look at me.”

Again, she did as if he was no more than a ghost. She heard him sigh deeply and internally smirked to herself. She liked those little victories. The man groaned and joined his hands, crossing his fingers as he always did when talking cautiously, choosing his words, his voice was kind, like when she was a little girl:

“Honey, would you be nicer to your mom and me if I gave you your phone back? I'm ready to do that.”

Her heart jumped. Her phone... He had taken it the same night Newt had been thrown out of the house, just like her mother’s and the house phone. He had told them that he wouldn’t let them reach that boy he called a freak. And since then, she had tried to find a way to reach Newt. The problem with the cell phones being that you didn’t need to know someone’s number by heart to call him. And she didn’t know his. Her only option was to get close to one of her brother’s friends, but then again, it was pretty hard when your brother was no more in high school and that your stepfather just drove you to school and then back home. He was literally controlling her life. And she hated it. She had thought many times about running away, but that wasn’t happening before she could get in touch with her brother, at least knowing that he was okay.

Janson was waiting for an answer. Would he give her phone back? No. He wouldn’t, she was sure of it. There must be a trap. He wouldn’t risk her to call Newt. She was even surprised at how easy it had been for her to hate the man that had always been the father figure in her life. How only a few days had been enough. One evening in fact. She didn’t pick the bait and got up, putting her bowl in the sink and going upstairs to get ready for school. She didn’t give one look to her mother, not even batting an eyelid as she heard her sniff. Her mother hadn’t done anything. She hadn’t even tried to go to the police to report her son missing while Janson took Sonya to school. No, her mother seemed too afraid to risk to be alone at her age than to fight for her child. Sonya was disgusted.

She took her shower and prepare herself, plaiting her blond her and putting some make-up, wearing skinny grey jeans, black tank top and sweater, and her brother’s jacket. It was a long leather jacket, brown in the outside and cream in the inside, and warm. When Janson had shut-away Newt’s room, he had forgotten that they put their coats and winter jackets in the same wardrobe in the corridor. She hadn’t wait to take it and put it in her room. Unfortunately, Newt didn’t let his phone number in his pockets. She supposed he wasn’t the type of guy who just distribute his phone number in parties. She took her bag and went downstairs, getting out of the house and entering in the car, on the back seat. Janson didn’t even try to make her come on the front seat, he had understood that the girl wouldn’t let go of anything for him. He gritted his teeth and drove: eventually, with a bit of time, the girl would open up again to him.

When they stopped at the high school, she got out of the car and left without looking back. She was willing to let that man know that no one could just tear apart her family and hope for her love and acceptation. She stepped into the establishment and looked around, searching for her best friend, Aris Jones. He had been a devoted friend since the morning he had known for her brother. And as every morning, he was waiting for her in the corridor that led to the canteen, the newspaper of the day in his hand.

“Hey, Sonya.”

“Hi, Aris.” She weakly smiled.

“Here.” He gave her the newspaper. “I haven’t seen your brother’s name inside. And they didn’t mention any blond guy around 20 years old.”

He let her go frantically through the pages, knowing that she believed him but had to look nonetheless. He had tried to find Newt’s phone number on internet but had simply failed at the task. He hated how sad his best friend looked, how her eyes were watering now and then during the day. But today, she looked up resolutely at him, not even blinking:

“Aris, I need your help.”

“What do you want me to do?” He asked, letting her know once more that he would accept to do any service for her.

“I need you to go the Glade School of Art for me. And see if you can find one of my brother’s friends.” She explained. “He never had many so you should at least find one. I remember a name like Zart but I’m not sure... I saw him once. He is tall and blond. Blue eyes.”

“That’s small but I’ll try nonetheless.” The brunette assured her.

“Thanks, Aris.” The blond girl murmured. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you...”

“Everything for my best friend.” He gently smiled, before adding. “I’ll go now. I’ll be luckier if I go during the day.”

“I’ll take notes for you.” She instantaneously answered. “You sure about skipping classes?”

“Hey. No one’s watching my moves.” Aris shrugged. “I’m going now. Have fun during classes.”

“Good luck.”

Sonya looked at her friend’s back as he disappeared in the crowd of high school students. He was her only hope. She didn’t know how she could reach Newt otherwise. The bell rang in the corridors and she went to her first class with a heavy heart. As she sat, she thought of the day she would spend without Aris at her side. But it was for a good cause. She had to keep her hopes high. The teacher called the roll, groaning something unintelligible as he noted the absent ones. It was an old man and Sonya didn’t like him at all. He was always yelling at her and Aris for talking to each other. The man looked like a hell hound.

“Today, you have a new comer in your class. Be nice, you little brats. Come here.”

A girl entered in the room. She was tall, her skin was dark, her eyes almost black and her head was covered with black dreadlocks. Her eyes were fierce, as if she was angry to be there. Sonya found it strange and couldn’t take her eyes away from the girl. She really looked like she wanted to be somewhere else but didn’t get the choice.

“Her name is Harriet. She moved a few days ago in our town. Just try to look civilized, okay? Harriet, there’s a place aside Sonya. Go there since Mr. Jones had thought it was wiser not to come to my class today.”

Sonya definitely hated that man. But her attention was caught by the girl walking towards her. Harriet was a pretty girl. She definitely must be beautiful when she wasn’t frowning and looking like she was ready to bite someone’s head off. She sat just aside Sonya and looked straight at the teacher, visibly not in the mood to talk. The blonde girl smiled gently and murmured:

"Hi. I'm Sonya. Just so you know if you wanna talk."

And she looked away: she wouldn't insist if the new girl didn't want to talk. She must have her own reasons. The silence was deafening, only broken by the teacher's voice. The subject in itself wasn't the most interesting one and Sonya sighed as all her thoughts were turned to her brother. She wondered if Aris would find that Zart guy. There were a lot of students in Newt’s School of Arts. Would Aris find him today? Would he be okay to try again if not? She didn’t know and mentally insulted herself for not paying more attention to her brother’s friends. They hadn’t been the closest but they loved each other just like brother and sister could love one another. She couldn’t accept to become an only child just like this, as if he had never existed. There wasn’t even a picture of him in their house anymore. Only in her room, hidden.

She was playing with her pen, not really paying attention to the class (nobody was anyway), when she heard her class neighbour sighing deeply, her breath shivering slightly. Sonya turned her attention to the girl and saw that she looked really preoccupied, stressed, literally restless. The blonde girl bit her bottom lip, hesitating, before whispering:

“Hey.”

Harriet looked sideways at her, frowning slightly. Sonya offered her a smile and murmured in a conspiracy tone:

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

The dark skinned girl seemed to hesitate, risking another look to their teacher, before staring back at her classmate and nodding. Sonya beamed at that before her face turned instantaneously into a worried expression mask and raised her hand:

“Sir? Harriet is not feeling well. Could I take her to the infirmary?”

“What?” The man frowned, his dark eyes darting from one girl to another.

“She’s not feeling well.” Sonya repeated, trying not to show her exasperation.

“Not well, huh?” The teacher groaned. “And why’s that?”

Sonya stopped herself from rolling her eyes to the sky and pinched her lips. That man was such a jerk sometimes, but she hadn’t thrown her last card in the game. She pulled her most innocent face before dropping:

“Yeah, we, girls, have sometimes painful periods, sir.”

Disgusted moans and laughs erupted all around in the classroom and the old man pulled an ugly face before pointing the door. The two girls didn’t waited to get out of the room with their belongings and headed towards the playground: the blonde one knew where they could be at peace. They went to a corner of the playground where stairs were leading to the foundations of the school. No one ever used them and Sonya used to come here with Aris to discuss about the world. She liked the quiet place. Harriet waited for them to be settled before murmuring:

“Thanks for getting me out of there. Even with the periods excuse.”

“You’re welcome. No one can stand that class. The teacher is boring to no end and it lets too much time to think...”

“Dark thoughts?” The girl asked, craning her head, her dreadlocks dancing in the movement.

“Yeah... Like yours, I guess...” Sonya shrugged, sitting at her side. “I won’t ask you though. Just noticed you were a bit off.”

Harriet pinched her lips, thinking. She seemed to need to talk. Sonya waited in silence, searching in her bag to fish out a packet of cigarettes. Harriet frowned at that, judgement in her eyes and not even trying to hide it. The blonde smiled at that: she liked honesty.

“It’s not mine.”

“No?” Harriet raised an eyebrow, sceptical. “Why do you carry it then?”

“It’s my brother’s.” Sonya murmured, looking down at the packet. “It was in the pocket of the jacket I am wearing.”

“Oh...” Her classmate hesitated. “Is... Is your brother...?”

“I don’t know...” The blonde shrugged, biting slightly her bottom lip. “My... Stepdad kicked him out of the house when he came out of the closet two weeks ago. Took my mobile, my mom’s, and the phone house is more surveyed than the white house.”

“Wow... That sucks... Sorry for asking.” Harriet apologised. “I can lend you my phone if you want.”

“I don’t know his number.” Sonya shook her head. “My best friend Aris went to my brother’s uni to try to find a friend of him. ‘Cuz I don’t know if I’m not being watched.”

“Your stepfather seems kinda fucked up.” The dreadlocks girl stated.

“Yeah. I loved him. He's the only father figure I know... But now..." The Brit girl sighed. "I think I never hated someone that much..."

Harriet nodded and looked away, thinking about what she had just heard. She had often heard stories about gays getting kicked out of their home when making their coming out, but it was something she saw on television. It had always been something far away, even if she knew it happened. She looked sideways at that Sonya girl, observing her, the way she played with this packet of cigarettes, the way her eyes stayed staring at it. She pinched her lips and turned her gaze away as she murmured:

"My grandma is at the hospital."

"God, will she be okay?" Sonya asked, suddenly fully focused on her classmate.

"I don't know." Harriet admitted. "I just moved in with my mother. We had left for the supermarket, thinking my grandma would stay at home, in front of the television... But she didn't. I don't know why she suddenly wanted to go out. She fell in the staircase. For now, the doctors stabilized her but... She hasn't wake up yet..."

"I'm sorry..." The blonde whispered.

"Just to tell you why I'm cranky." The dark skinned girl sadly smiled, her eyes shining with tears. "Doctors said she had been lucky because a guy stopped her fall. A neighbour in the building. I have to go there and thank him this evening. Didn't have the occasion yet."

Sonya nodded in silence, feeling pity for that grandmother. She was afraid somehow to get old, to be dependent on others one day. She gently took the other girl's hand and squeezed it delicately, offering her a small smile. They were having tough times, but visibly they could now count on each other for that. They would become great friends, Sonya was sure of it.

 

****

Thomas heard a deep inhalation and looked up from his lines: Newt was in his bed, slowly opening his eyes. The brunette smiled and put his lines on his desk (he had taken the time to tidy a little bit) before getting up and approaching the bed. He sat near the blonde, on the edge of the bed, and murmured:

“Hey. Good morning there.”

Newt’s eyes focused on him and stared, like an owl awakening in the daylight. He laughed slightly and let the Brit bring his thoughts all together. The blonde frowned and groaned:

“Why am I in your bed?”

“You were exhausted yesterday.” Thomas explained, bemused. “We figured you would rest better in a proper bed than on an air mattress. How are you feeling?”

“A bit numb...” The blonde admitted, pressing his palms against his eyes, and then suddenly he looked at him. “The granny... Any news?”

“Minho left his phone. They didn’t call yet... We guessed that she’s still there.” The brunette sadly shrugged. “But we can go tomorrow if you want to.”

The Brit slightly nodded. Thomas could tell he was still affected by what had happened the day before. He didn’t like this expression on Newt’s face. Definitely not. He sighed slightly and leant in, putting his hand against the blonde’s forehead, surprising the boy:

“Wha-”

“At least you don’t have any fever.” The actor smiled. “You’d better rest for today.”

“According to you, I should rest every single day.” Newt offered a little smirk.

Thomas beamed at that: it wasn’t often he could actually see the hint of a smile on the Brit’s face and it filled him with joy. He shook his head and gave a little hit on his interlocutor’s head as he grunted:

“Fortunately, I’ll be here today so I’ll be sure you do rest.”

Both boys laughed slightly at that and Newt rolled his eyes: this guy was really taking the mother hen role seriously. But even if he still feel a bit uneasy about it, it was nice to feel taken care of, to feel like someone cared, that somehow he mattered. He looked up as Thomas got up of the bed and stretched:

“I’m gonna bring you breakfast, what do you want?”

“I can walk to the kitchen.” The Brit groaned.

“Hey, I told you to rest, remember?” The brunette crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “So tell me what you want for breakfast and I’ll bring it to you.”

“Blimey, you’re stubborn, aren’t you?” Newt slightly smirked.

“I am.” Thomas nodded with a mischievous smile and then spoke with an exaggerated tone. “So? What would you like, sir?”

“My... Tea, please. With bread and marmalade.” The blonde ordered.

“Alright. Butter?”

“Yes, please.”

Thomas laughed at this unnatural scene and went in the kitchen. He felt happy that Newt seemed to feel more at ease with him and that he let him take care of him. They were meant to spend some time together, so it was for the best if they could get along. He prepared the tray and waited for the water to boil when the sound of the key opening the front door made him turn around. Minho appeared in the entrance, all sweaty, and raised his eyebrows at Thomas’ sight:

“What are you doing? Second breakfast?”

“Preparing Newt’s. He’s up.” The brunette replied, gesturing toward his room. “I told him to rest.”

“Okay.” The Asian wiped his temple and cheek with his hand. “I’m gonna take a shower. Put some coffee on the tray, will you?”

“Second breakfast, huh?” Thomas smirked as he watched his roommate heading to the bathroom.

“Yup. And don’t forget my cereals, shank.” Minho barked, closing the door.

The brunette laughed and obeyed, preparing quite a heavy tray since it was a breakfast for three people instead of one. It wasn’t often that Thomas and Minho had the same day off, but it was always nice to spend some time together: the two boys were very close, best friends if not brothers. The Korean boy always went for a run when he had some free time in the morning, loving the feeling of running through the city, the streets passing before his eyes, music accompanying every single of his steps, his hearts drumming at his temples...He had invited Thomas may times and the brunette had only accepted a few: Minho was almost an athlete in this discipline, he had a hard time following him sometimes. But once in a while, it was very nice. Even if he had the feeling he would vomit his lungs in the end.

The actor gave a last look at the tray: the tea for Newt, bread, marmalade, coffee for Minho and himself, Minho’s cereals, Nutella for himself, orange juice... It seemed good. He took the tray and huffed as he discovered it was heavy as hell. He walked awkwardly to the room and knocked with his foot since he couldn’t open it himself. Newt appeared and his dark brown eyes widened comically:

“I’m not that hungry, you know.” He stepped aside to let the brunette enter.

“It’s not just for you, slinthead.” Thomas smiled and put the tray on the bed, watching out to not spill anything on the sheets. “Minho’s coming. He’s taking a shower: he just came back from running.”

“Alright.” The blonde nodded, staying at the door as he looked in the corridor for a second. “Is Brenda coming...?”

“No, she’s not there.” The brunette replied. “She’s staying at her mother’s ‘cuz she’ll be working late tonight and it’ll be near her mother’s house.”

“Oh...Okay.”

Newt seemed to relax a bit. Thomas pinched slightly his lips: Brenda and Newt weren’t exactly friends. He couldn’t blame the Brit to apprehend to be near the girl again considering the last words they had exchanged. But he was sure it was a matter of time before they could understand each other. They were nice people, each one of them.

The blonde came nearby and sat on the edge of the bed, not really knowing if he should start or wait for the brunette’s roommate, playing nervously with his fingers. The scene made Thomas smile: Newt looked like a timid child, sitting a bit too straight, hesitating to move. The actor wanted to laugh but thought wiser, took the mug of tea and handed it to the Brit:

“Here. Your tea.”

“Thank you.” Newt murmured, visibly relaxing and taking some sugar.

“You’re welcome.” Thomas answered as he took his cup of coffee. “You know, huh...”

“What?” The blonde looked up at him, tensing, almost freezing.

“You can feel at home here.” The brunette said, a bit unsure about how to say what was in his mind. “I mean... I know it’s been only two days but... Huh... You... You don’t have to... Huh...”

“The thing this shank is trying to tell you is: feel free to do whatever you wanna do here, without asking or worrying about us.” Minho blurted out as he came in the room, the hair still wet from his shower and a bit less dishevelled.

The Asian sat on the bed too, took one slice of bread and put it in his mouth before drying slowly his hair with the towel that was resting on his shoulders. Thomas wrinkled his nose and grunted as his forehead fell on the bed: it wasn’t exactly the way he wanted to tell that to Newt, now he just looked like a moron. A chuckle made him look up only to see the blonde bemused, his dark chocolate eyes painting two crescent moons on his face as he smile slightly. It was the first time they heard the Brit laugh and the two roommates stayed motionless for a second, Minho stopping his hair drying and the mastication of his bread, before exchanging a glance and smiling. It was the first time in two days and they decided they liked the sound of it, feeling like this expression suited Newt much more than the worried one he had had on his face previously.

Newt obeyed and prepared himself a slice of bread with jam before according himself to speak again, looking up to the two other boys on the bed:

“Thanks. I... It’s very nice from you, guys, to accept me here. I don’t know where I’d be otherwise.”

“As long as it’s not a church.” The Korean boy mumbled through his slice of bread.

“Minho!” Thomas exclaimed, giving him a slap behind the head. “Don’t say that! And stop talking with your mouth full, it’s disgusting!”

“It’s okay, Tommy.” Newt actually smiled, bemused by those two dorks. “I deserved that. But thanks nonetheless for letting me stay.”

“You’re welcome.” The brunette replied, beaming. “I told you: you can feel at home here. And I’m sorry for this shank here. He’s a good guy, I promise.”

“I bet.” The blonde chuckled.

It was a warm feeling. Newt really felt good with those two. The atmosphere was relax and friendly. As his eyes stopped on Minho, he spotted the Asian staring at him and felt his heart missing a beat: what? Had he done something wrong? Said something he shouldn’t have? He swallowed slowly and murmured:

“What?”

“Nothing.” The Korean boy kept staring for one more second and looked away with a smirk. “Just thought it was nice seeing you smiling.”

Newt wasn’t really convinced that it was what was in Minho’s head but didn’t argue, just raising an eyebrow as the boy chuckled and shook his head. What was going on in that Asian head of him? Thomas smiled, visibly absolutely not aware of that last exchange, a slice of bread in one hand and a little spoon with jam in the other:

“What should we do today?”

“You, shank, have to learn your lines.” Minho smirked as he poured some milk in his bowl of cereals.

“I can do that in the evening, it would be fresher for tomorrow!” The brunette groaned, wrinkling his nose.

“If you wanna think that.” The Asian sneered before looking at the Brit. “Newt, it’s your call.”

“I don’t know.” The blonde shrugged, muffling a curse as he almost spilled tea on the bed in the gesture. “What do you propose?”

“We have a Wii console with Mario Kart, Raving Rabbits, etc. We have board games too...” Thomas frowned, thinking.

Newt smiled as he watched his interlocutor thinking: the brunette seemed to make his brain work intensively, forgetting his slice of bread from which jam was leaking, hopefully on the tray and not on the bed. Minho chuckled once more, making Newt frown, but the Asian just shook his head and kept eating. The Brit seriously wondered what was so funny but didn’t have the chance to ask since Thomas came back in the conversation, oblivious of all this:

“Maybe we can play Mario Kart or a board game so you don’t move too much.”

“I’m not made of glass, Tommy.” The blonde smirked.

“But you’re recovering...” The brunette pouted.

“God, you’re like an old couple.” Minho rolled his eyes. “I choose Mario Kart. You’ll choose the next game. Or movie. Or whatever.”

Both Newt and Thomas laughed before the American took the tray, asking if they had finished, and put it on the ground before preparing the console. Newt discreetly checked his phone and held back a sigh as the screen remained unchanged: no message, no call. It had been two weeks now since he had been thrown in the street, what was he expecting? A message from his sister? A call from his mother? His throat tightened and he tried to keep some composure, sipping his tea. Thomas suddenly left the room, surprising the Brit: he hadn’t been listening at all.

“Where is he going?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Don’t worry.” Minho smirked once more, almost offering a knowing smile. “He just went in the kitchen: to prepare our drinks and junk food supplies.”

“Oh. Okay.” Newt stared at his interlocutor, frowning as he wondered again what was going on in his head.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The Asian chuckled. “You’re pretty obvious.”

“I’m what?” Now the blonde was lost.

“Thomas. He’s your kind of guy, am I wrong?” Minho smiled like the cat that got the milk.

“Wha- No! I mean... What are you talking about?!” Newt blurted out, shocked, not even knowing how to react at that.

The Korean boy burst out laughing, visibly really amused. The Brit was dumbfounded: was that why the guy had been chuckling for the past hour? How did he even know that he was gay? Had Thomas said something about it? He must have made a panicked face because Minho gently patted his knee:

“Calm down, greenie. He doesn’t know.” He grinned. “And he wouldn’t know even if you walk with a sign dangling around your neck.”

“I... I don’t...” Newt shook his head, abandoning the idea of even denying his sexual orientation. “I don’t know if I like him. I mean: I’ve been here for two days.”

“And?” Minho raised an eyebrow. “I’ve known my last girlfriend for twenty seconds before kissing her. Well, we were in a club anyway, so talking wasn’t really useful. But I saw the way you look at him and how easily he makes you smile, even in your situation.”  

“My situation?” The Brit cautiously repeated, not knowing how much of his past his interlocutor knew.

“You don’t act like someone who would easily commit a suicide. So I guess your story is kinda tough.” The Asian shrugged. “I won’t ask anything though: it’s none of my business. But if you wanna talk about it, I can listen.”

“Thanks...” Newt relaxed a bit, touched by the boy’s words.

“So? Your type?” Minho grinned again.

“I. Don’t. Know.” The blonde rolled his eyes.

“’Cuz he’s bi if you wanna know. And single for all I know.” The Korean’s shit-eating grin widened.

“Minho!” Newt exclaimed.

“MINHO!” Thomas’ voice called from the kitchen. “Come and help me! It’s shucking heavy!”

“Coming!”

The Asian looked back at his newest roommate and offered a Cheshire cat’s smile before patting the blonde’s leg and getting up, leaving without looking back. Newt was open-mouthed, staring dumbly at the door. What had just happened? He felt his cheeks burning hot and bit his bottom lip: had he been staring strangely at Thomas? Had he let the brunette enter in his bubble that easily? He looked down at the bed, his fingers dancing nervously on the duvet as his thoughts ran wildly in his mind. Thomas had been nothing but nice to him... And he wasn’t ugly, not at all, he was even handsome actually. Could it be possible that he was liking him without even noticing himself?

The hint of a smile pulled slightly on the side of his lips but disappeared almost instantaneously: he shouldn’t. It was a no future situation. He was sick. And not just a temporary sickness. He was infected. There was no way he could allow himself to cultivate any feelings for anyone. He would die young. They kept telling him he could live with it but he wouldn’t, he was sure of it. He knew it. He would die because of that sickness. And there was no way he could risk anything with anyone. He would never infect anyone. Especially not someone who had been so nice to him. He heard the two boys coming in the corridor and inhaled deeply to regain some composure. It was his problem, they shouldn’t know anything of that. Thomas already knew too much... No, he would keep that to himself.

“Ready to lose, shuckers?” Minho bawled.

Newt forced a smile at that and grunted something about someone being too confident and who should need a lesson.

Yeah... It was for the best.

 

**To be continued...**


	5. Thanks to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harriet finds out that her grandother is awake. She definitely have to go and thank her savior now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a character for Harriet’s mother, I took the name of one of WICKED nurses, Lisa, but the character is totally different (mentally and physically) of the one in the book.
> 
> Unbetad.

Harriet watched as tears filled up Sonya’s eyes without running down her cheeks, only shining at the edge of her eyelids. The blonde girl simply offered a weak smile to her best friend Aris, murmuring a thank you barely audible: the boy had returned just before the end of classes and, at the girl’s sight, had said nothing, dropping his eyes and shaking his head. He had found nothing. He had been looking all day for someone called Zart, a tall guy with blond hair and blue eyes, but he hadn’t expected that many students in the Glade School of Art and none of those he had talked to seemed to know that guy called Zart. Sonya simply smiled at him:

“It’s okay, Aris... Thanks for trying.”

“I’ll go tomorrow again!” The boy quickly replied. “I’ll find something, I promise, Sonya!”

“You can’t just skip classes all the time, Aris.” The blonde shook her head. “You’d just fail your school year.”

A honk made them look up and Harriet screwed up her eyes as she could now put a face on Sonya’s stepfather. He didn’t seem that evil though, even good-looking. But his eyes weren’t exactly nice: they seemed so penetrative they could bare your soul. Definitely unpleasing. The two high school students let the British girl go and watched as the black car drove away as soon as she got in.

“I can’t believe it...” Aris sighed. “I was so sure I’d find something today.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” Harriet murmured, feeling bad for him.

“I know but...!” The brunette clenched his fists before sighing in defeat. “I just wish I could help. For real.”

The dark-skinned girl pinched her lips and gently patted the boy’s shoulder. Eventually, they would find something. And if Sonya was watched, then Harriet could go to the police to report the blonde girl’s brother missing. She would just need a picture... And her friend’s consent too. Harriet would help them. Aris smiled at her and thanked her, happy to know that Sonya had a new friend on whom she could count and he was happy to know her too.

Harriet just gently smiled and walked away, returning to her own torments. How was her grandmother? She ran to catch the bus to go to the hospital where her mother must be already. She was heavy-hearted as the city passed before her eyes behind the bus window, feeling so out of tune with the rest of the world: her mind was stuck on her grandmother while everyone kept living normally, totally impervious to her stress and pain. Just like she was perhaps a bit impervious to Sonya’s distress. Seeing it but not totally embracing it. The thoughts were swirling in her head: what if her grandmother was to die today? What if they would tell her that she had died as soon as she would put a foot in the hospital? Her grandmother was old and she knew that she would die one day, but it was too soon yet and it definitely couldn’t be like that. Her grandmother didn’t deserve that, did she? She felt a tear running down her cheek and furiously wiped it out with her sleeve before shaking her head: she shouldn’t think like that. She had to be positive. Her grandmother was this kind of person, Harriet couldn’t be otherwise now.

By the time the bus arrived near the hospital, she had no more nails to bite. She got out and walked to the big building, the heart pounding. She didn’t even need to stop by the front desk, heading directly to the elevators. She almost hurt herself by pressing violently the elevator calling button with her finger and waited, her foot nervously tapping the ground as she looked at the floors’ digits just above the elevator’s door. How would she find her grandmother? Would she finally be awake? She almost jumped at the signal of the opening gates and went into the elevator, her heart pounding so loudly she wondered if anyone could hear it. Her eyes stared at the little screen: 1st floor, 2nd, 3rd. As soon as the signal rang out, she got out of the elevator and walked to the room. She wanted first to run, but the closer the room was, the slowest she walked. Harriet was afraid, she couldn’t deny it. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes to calm down and knocked.

“Harriet?” It was the muffled sound of her mother’s voice.

The door opened and her mother, Lisa, appeared. Lisa was a tall woman, Harriet barely arriving at her nose; she had black straight hair that framed her face and beautiful dark eyes with long eyelashes. She was a beautiful woman with presence and Harriet often smiled when people said that she looked like Michelle Obama. Lisa offered a tired smile but beautiful nonetheless to her daughter before coming out of the room and closing the door behind her. The gesture froze Harriet: why would her mother want to greet her out of the room? Had something happened to her grandmother? Lisa must have seen the anxiety in her daughter eyes because she hugged her and murmured:

“It’s okay. Gran woke up in the night.”

“How is she? Is she fine? Why are we talking outside?” The teenager rumbled, her eyes going from her mom to the door and back, her heart pounding.

“She is good, sweetie...” Lisa cautiously said, before sighing slightly at her daughter’s frowning. “She had a serious concussion. A head trauma actually. So... She’s awake and smiling but she doesn’t speak. And doesn’t walk either... For now.”

Harriet felt stunned at that, her eyes watering. It was like her brain had stopped working at all. Her grandmother, not walking? Not talking? It was so unlike the memories she had from her: a lively woman despite her age, quick-witted, always smiling and joking, walking quite fast for someone with a walking stick... She almost jumped as her mother’s hands griped her shoulders firmly, getting her back from her thoughts:

“Sweetie. Doctors said it could change. Her head hit the floor but for someone of her age, she is doing well. I looked into her eyes: she’s there. Now, more than ever, she needs us to be strong and believe that she will get better. Walk and talk again. Can you do that, honey?”

“Do you believe it?” Harriet whispered, her sad eyes searching reassurance into her mother’s. “Will she walk and talk again?”

“I do trust her with that.” Lisa nodded.

The girl breathed deeply, closing her eyes as she tried to calm down. When she opened them again, she looked into her mother’s eyes and pinched her lips, slowly nodding: she would be strong for her grandmother. Lisa smiled proudly at her and invited her inside the room, her hand slightly pushing her in the back to give her daughter some confidence. The room was all white with a royal-blue floor; the green curtain usually cutting the room in two to separate the beds was now against the wall since no one was occupying the second bed, perfectly neat. On the other bed, among the yellow and green sheets, a small dark-skinned woman appeared with salt and pepper hair. She looked so small on this big hospital bed, the metal pole of the drip standing at her right like a troubling presence... But as soon as she looked up to her grand-daughter, the old woman’s eyes sparkled with life in the middle of her creased face and she smiled happily at her, reaching out to her with both arms, making the tubes of the drip dance in the air.

“Gran...!” Harriet approached and hugged tightly the old woman. “I’m so glad you are awake!”

Despite everything, she was there. Small and fragile, but warm and tender, and it was the most important. That boy had really saved her grandmother... She had to go there, definitely. She let go of her grandmother and smiled to her, looking into her big dark eyes.

“It’s okay, Gran. You’ll be alright. I promise.” She whispered.

“Tell her about your day at school, honey.” Lisa murmured. “She was concerned about you making friends or not... And so was I.”

Harriet smiled slightly and slowly nodded, starting talking about her school and the people she had met... 

****

 

“You’re alright, Newt?” Thomas asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him with a worried face.

“Yeah... I didn’t expect my wrist to hurt after playing videogames.” The blonde admitted, slowly taking off his bandage but stopping before revealing the damaged skin. “I... Er... You might wanna leave the room...”

“Why?” The actor asked, frowning slightly. “Are you... Embarrassed? Ashamed? You want me to leave?”

“It’s nasty.” Newt simply murmured, dropping his eyes on his covered wrist.

“Alright.” Thomas nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. I’ll leave if it’s awkward for you. No pressure.”

He got up and left the room to leave some space for the Brit. Newt wasn’t yet feeling at ease in their flat, he wouldn’t push him. Closing the door behind him, he walked in the corridor and met Minho in the kitchen: the Asian had stopped playing with them almost an hour ago to cook the diner. Thomas leant against the fridge and sank his hands into his pockets, his eyes watching his roommate at the stove.

“Hey Min’?”

“Hm?” The Korean boy looked sideways to him.

“Thank you... For today.” The brunette sighed slightly and smiled. “It was nice spending time with the two of you. Thanks for making Newt feel comfortable.”

“It’s nothing. I’m no hero, bro.” Minho shrugged.

“Well, thanks nonetheless, shuckface.” Thomas grunted.

He wanted to add something about the Asian being unable to accept a thank you speech but the bell rang, cutting right through the brunette thoughts. It was almost nine o’clock, who would come and ring at their door at this hour of the night? They hadn’t be particularly noisy... Thomas exchanged a glance with his roommate before deciding to go and open the door. It was a girl, probably still in high school, she had dark skin and dark eyes, with long black dreadlocks. She didn’t seem familiar despite the brunette living here since a few years.

“Hi...?” Thomas murmured, raising an eyebrow.

“Er... Hi. My name is Harriet and I just moved in with my mom.” The girl presented herself.

“Well, welcome in the building.” The brunette replied, giving her a warm smile.

“Thanks. But I’m not here for that, actually.” Harriet slightly tilted her head, uneasy.

“Oh... Huh. Maybe we can help you?” Thomas asked, surprised, before looking at Minho who had come closer.

“You already did.” The high school girl shook her head. “My grandmother fell in the stairs yesterday. You saved her from falling too hard on the ground.”

“Oh, the granny?” Minho intervened. “I let my phone number but no one called. How is she?”

“She woke up. She can’t speak or walk yet but... She’ll get better.” Harriet pinched her lips, feeling a bit awkward when speaking to those two boys she didn’t know at all. “So... She’s alive. And I wanted to thank you.”

“Wait. Not us.” The Asian stopped her and turned to his roommate. “Go get Newt. He needs to hear this.”

Thomas nodded and disappeared in the corridor. Minho looked back to the girl and invited her to enter with a smile, sensing that she wasn’t exactly feeling at ease. Luckily, their flat was pretty tidy so he didn’t feel ashamed to let her in. The girl kept looking at him, as if studying him, analysing his features. The Asian was amused and did just the same, burying his gaze into those big dark eyes. Harriet frowned slightly at that and murmured:

“I think something is burning on the stove.”

“What?” Minho looked away and walked to it, quickly arranging it. “Shuck... That was close.”

“Hey, here is your saviour.” Thomas smiled as he came back followed by their British roommate.

Newt was almost walking on eggshells, looking at the girl as if she could suddenly decide that he should die for not doing more for the old woman. Harriet wondered why this boy seemed so shy: she was only seventeen, nothing really impressive. He, in turn, was taller than her, but very thin, almost lanky in those clothes that seemed too big for him. She could study someone for a long time but decided to speak quickly so the boy might relax a bit:

“I came here to thank you. My grandmother woke up in the night. She is alive.”

“I... Is she alright?” Newt asked immediately, unconsciously rubbing his hand against his opposite arm.

“She can’t talk nor walk yet...” The girl sighed slightly but forced a smile. “But they said she could get better, regain all that. And she is fully conscious. It’s all thanks to you so… Thank you.”

“Er... I...” The blonde didn’t feel like deserving those thanks, he slightly shook his head and asked. “Can I come and visit her at the hospital?”

“Yes.” Harriet was surprised by how this boy she didn’t know felt concerned about her grandmother, and somehow felt reassured by it. “The visiting hours are from 13:30 to 20:00.”

“Alright...” Newt slowly nodded.

“My mother will be working so... Do you mind coming at 17:00?” The dark-skinned girl added. “I’ll come with you after school.”

“Of course.” The Brit nodded. “I understand.”

“You want us to pick you up at your school?” Thomas asked. “So we can go there together.”

“No, it’s fine.” Harriet shrugged. “I don’t remember the name of the school anyway: I just moved here.”

“Alright.”

The girl slightly nodded: it was all, she should go now. Her eyes wandered on the three boys: they didn’t look like bad guys, but she didn’t want them to go to the hospital while her grandmother was alone. Not that she thought they would harm her but... She needed to watch after her grandmother as often as she could. She had to. The Asian’s voice torn her out of her reverie:

“Well, if we’re good, I’m gonna bring her back home. Thomas, you’re responsible for the food.”

“You already burnt what’s in the bottom of the pan.” The brunette countered with a smirk.

“I don’t care, I want something edible when I come back.” Minho grinned before opening the door.

Harriet smiled and got out of the flat. Those boys seemed funny. She let the Korean close the door of the flat and started to walk, the boy following her. He was taller than her, almost half a head, and he had broad shoulders. She could tell he was the athlete type.

“Newt is a good guy, if you were wondering.”

“What?” The young girl gave him all her attention as she was suddenly torn out of her thoughts.

“The blonde guy you spoke to. The one who helped your grandma. He’s a good guy.” The Asian assured. “I don’t know him much but... I can at least affirm that. I know Thomas since... Let’s say a few years. He’s like the Christ.”

“The Christ?” Harriet laughed, visibly wondering what he meant.

“He thinks he has to save the entire world.” Minho smirked. “That shank... But he’s good at it. So no trouble neither for your grandma.”

“And you?” The high school student smiled, arriving at her floor. “You haven’t even presented yourself yet.”

“Minho.” The actor slightly inclined his head. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. This is where I live now.” Harriet murmured, pressing her hand against the door of her grandmother’s flat. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“You’re welcome.” Minho smiled. “See ya.”

And with that, he turned heels to head back home, throwing a last glance at the girl as he went back to the staircase. Harriet smiled and opened her door. After all, she might make a great amount of new friends in this new city.

Minho came back in their flat to find Thomas putting the table for three. Newt was nowhere to be seen, probably in the bathroom taking care of his wrist. The Asian stepped forward and helped his roommate, internally hoping that there was still something edible to eat. He grinned:

“The Queen of England left the boat when he saw you burning everything?”

“Shucker.” Thomas laughed, shaking his head at the blonde’s new nickname. “Shut your big mouth if you wanna eat. He’s coming back.”

“I’m here actually, you shuckface.” Newt smirked, addressing to their Korean friend.

“Oh my God!” Minho exclaimed, faking surprise with his hands on his cheeks and big eyes. “Thomas! Newt is speaking just like us! I’m getting highly emotional!”

The boys burst out laughing, shaking their heads as it was all a total non-sense. Newt was smiling, visibly happy and the two roommates exchanged a quick glance, smiling at each other, Minho’s words coming back in Thomas’ mind: _If you were meant to help him, he will get back on the track_. The two brunettes were willingly wanting to believe it. Now it was just a matter of time for Brenda and Newt to tame each other.

They ate together and then Minho left them to go in his room, pretexting he had to call his mother. Thomas grunted something about someone not wanting to do the dishwashing and totally refused when Newt proposed to do it.

“I can wash three plates, Thomas.”

The brunette looked up at him and, for a second, the Brit felt like a pang in his stomach but without being able to understand why: was it pain in Thomas’ eyes? He wanted to asked but the American simply shook his head and smiled at him, just like the usual:

“No. It would damage your bandage.”

Had Newt imagined it? Perhaps. He decided not to ask and simply nodded, adding he would be in the room. As soon as he was alone, the Brit checked his phone once more. No message nor phone call... Perhaps was he being immature? Maybe he should be the one calling instead of waiting day after day. At least he would know... Biting his bottom lip, he let his thumb dance on his screen, going to the contacts list.

Should he call his mother? His sister? Definitely not the house phone: he didn’t want to talk to Janson, nor even just hear his voice. His eyes stayed a moment on the “Mom” line as he hesitated. But hadn’t she let him in the blue for two weeks without wondering how he was doing? Her own son? Perhaps Janson had convinced her that Newt was a freak after all. He gulped as vivid images came back into his head, remembering that night he had become homeless. His thumb quickly wet down the contacts list and he pressed the call button. 

What would he tell her? Would Sonya even pick it up? Or would she turn it down as soon as she would see her brother’s name on her screen? His brain didn’t get to go any further in that direction since he directly had the voicemail. He swallowed as he heard his little sister’s voice. She sounded very young on the phone. His thumb pressed the red button and cut the call. Perhaps she didn’t have battery anymore... Or perhaps she had turn her phone off for the night...

Maybe he should try tomorrow... Thomas would be acting on the morning, so he would have plenty of time to try it once again.

 

**To be continued...**


	6. The grandmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt is nervous as he's going to meet Harriet's grandmother and if it wasn't enough, he also crosses the path of his doctor while he's with Thomas and Minho.

Harriet kept thinking of the boys during her class hours. She would meet them after school and take them to her grandmother at the hospital. She was a bit stressed and at the same time pretty relaxed: the three boys seemed to be nice and respectful. Plus Newt had saved her grandmother, so he couldn't be someone bad, right? And Minho had seemed serious when taking her back home. It would be fine. And otherwise, they would be in a hospital so she wouldn't be alone with them. 

Her eyes drifted to Sonya who was on her right. The blonde had an absent expression, the skin at the corner of her eyes was red... She must have cried again before coming to school... The dark skinned girl felt bad for having letting her friend's situation in a corner of her mind while focusing on the three boys. Sonya hadn't said much since the morning, visibly daydreaming. Was she thinking about her brother? Harriet bet. She gently put her hand on her friend's and whispered:

"Hey..."

The British girl looked at her, as if waking up, finally noticing her friend. She gave her a sad smile that made Harriet's heart squish for its sadness: the blonde was visibly fighting to keep smiling. The dark skinned girl just returned it and murmured:

"Aris went back to your brother's uni."

"What?" Sonya's eyes widened as she whispered back. "But I told him not to. He's gonna get in troubles!"

"And you thought he wouldn't?" Harriet huffed a little incredulous smile. "You're his best friend, Sonya, he would do anything for you."

The blonde bit her bottom lip at that and slowly nodded: somehow, it didn't surprise her... It was totally in Aris' temper. Her eyes went back to her friend and she slightly smiled:

"Thanks for telling me. I feel a bit better... Hope's back."

"You're welcome." Harriet shrugged. "I won't stay with you after class to wait for Aris: I'll meet my neighbours at the hospital. The guy that saved my grandmother wants to see how she's doing now that she's awake."

"That's cool. I'm so happy for you." The blonde smiled.

"Thanks." The dark skinned girl murmured, thoughtful about the evening.

"Is one of them cute?" Sonya smirked.

"Wha-No!!" Harriet exclaimed.

The professor instantaneously stared at them before yelling something about them never finishing school and being a shame for their family and society. The girls pouted when getting their extra homework and preferred not to talk again until the end of the class.

Sonya was truly happy for her friend, but however she couldn't erase her sadness. She tried to cheer herself up: perhaps Aris would have find that Zart guy... She clung to it. She had to believe to keep going. Her mind drifted away again until the end of the class and it was that until the end of the day, the girl spacing in and out even during the lunch, wondering how her brother was doing. It had been two weeks... She would have heard of him by now, right? He would have come to her school to meet her... So maybe something had happened to him. As often in the past few days, she silently cried.

Harriet felt bad for leaving her friend like this but she persuaded herself that Aris would take care of her and promise to herself to be there for her in the future, to help her finding her brother. She definitely would. But for now, she needed to get to the hospital, hoping to arrive before the three boys. She jumped in as soon as the bus stopped near her and impatiently waited to be on the Hospital parking. She would arrive normally before 17h00. As the town passed by the window, the young girl lost herself in her thoughts: why did the three boys want to see her grandmother? Well, it was mostly Newt that wanted to see her. Would he speak to her? If yes, what would he tell her? And how would her grandmother react? Would she remember him at all? Her eyes suddenly focused on the Hospital and she got up, cursing as she ran out of the bus, almost missing the stop.

As she approached, she spotted the three boys sitting on the sideway, at the entrance of the Hospital. Minho had his legs stretched in front of him, slightly leaning backwards, on his hands as he looked up to Thomas. The brunette was on his foot, talking as he walked in circles. And Newt was sitting near Minho, nervously fiddling with hist fingers. She sighted slightly since they had arrived before her, but joined them, Minho spotting her first and offering her a wide wicked smile:

"And here comes the princess."

"I'm no princess." Harriet grunted. "Have you been here very long?"

"No, we arrived fifteen minutes ago." Newt murmured. "Tommy was reviewing his lines."

"Lines?" The dark skinned girl looked up to Thomas.

"I'm an actor." He simply smiled.

"Oh..." She let out, noticing she didn't know a thing about them. "Are you all actors?"

"Only Minho and I." Thomas laughed. "Newt is..."

"Looking for a job." The blonde cut in, visibly not wanting to talk much about it. "But right now I'd like to see your grandmother..."

His voice was unsure unlike his determined stare. Was he nervous? Harriet simply nodded and invited them to follow her inside the Hospital. Minho stayed right behind her while Newt walked a bit slower, thoughtful; Thomas was at his side:

"Hey, you're alright, buddy?"

"What? Oh, yes..." The Brit murmured. "Just a bit... Er..."

"Nervous?" The brunette proposed.

"Yes." Newt admitted.

Harriet called the elevator and talked to Minho, letting the two boys together, which the blonde appreciated. He turned his dark brown eyes to Thomas and almost whispered:

"I don't know how to behave."

"Just be yourself." The American smiled. "You basically saved her life."

"You forgot she can't speak or walk..." Newt mumbled. "What if she thinks I should have done more? Or nothing at all?"

"You think way too much." Thomas gently patted his shoulder. "Just be yourself. You're good just the way you are."

They got in the elevator and the Brit leant against the back of the machine, he addressed a small smile to Thomas, grateful that the brunette found the words that would calm him, even slightly. He wondered if it was the brunette’s special sill but he liked it. He simply nodded to thank him and focused on Harriet as the doors opened:

"I'll go first. If she's asleep, I won't let you come in."

"Of course." Minho answered for them all as it was totally logical.

They followed the girl in the corridors and stopped in front of a closed door. The high schooler gestured them to not make a sound and slowly opened the door, entering in the room to see if her grandmother was awake. She smiled:

"Hi gran'. I have some visit for you."

The boys waited for her to tell them to come in and they entered. It was a bit awkward to be standing there, in front of the bed: the old woman seemed so small, so fragile. Newt entered in last, needing all his bravery to look at her, his mind full of stressed questions. But as soon as their eyes met, she stretched her hands at him, a wide toothless smile parting her face. She seemed literally bursting with joy at his sight. Newt's heart missed a beat, not prepared for such happiness from the grandmother.

"She wants you to come closer." Harriet murmured, a smile on her lips.

The Brit looked at her, as if suddenly remembering that he wasn't alone with the old woman. He gulped and nodded before stepping forward, approaching slowly. As soon as she could, the woman grabbed him in a fragile but tight hug. Newt hesitated and put his arms around her thin body, feeling his tenseness slowly disappearing as the warmness of her hug sank in. He slightly smiled and murmured:

"I'm glad you're alright, Ma'am."

She pulled back and look at him with watering eyes, a trembling smile on her lips. She knew him. She remembered. She nodded and hugged him again. Newt felt good in those fragile arms for so lovely they were, he looked at her as he pulled back and smiled:

"Is everyone nice with you here?"

The old woman nodded frantically. Somehow they seemed to understand each other and Newt kept asking questions to which Harriet's grandmother could answer by yes or no. Thomas smiled at that, more than happy to see the Brit relaxing. He looked at Minho and murmured:

"Thanks."

"For what?" The Asian didn't look away from Newt and the patient.

"For making me call him when Harriet came last night..." Thomas replied. "I was so surprised I didn't think of it."

"Don't thank me." Minho groaned. "Friends are supposed to help each other. You don't have to thank me every single time, you shank."

Harriet looked at them, raising an eyebrow but didn't comment on that. Somehow, it was true, but those guys were definitely a bit different. In a weird but nice way. She waited for the blonde to come back to them and smiled at him:

"Thanks, Newt. Gran' appreciated your presence. Now, excuse me, guys, but I'd like to spend some time with her."

They nodded and went out of the room. Thomas looked sideways to the Brit: he had a small but very touching smile on his lips, visibly agreeably shaken but those few minutes with the old lady. He had save her life. Now Newt could see it and accept it. The brunette's smile widened as he gently patted his friend's shoulder, making those dark chocolate coloured eyes to look up at him.

Newt nodded slightly. His heart was still pounding in his chest. Right now, he might have liked a hug as he feared to fall apart. When had he become so sensitive? He didn't know.

"Newt?" A female voice called behind them.

The blonde stopped and looked behind: it was the doctor he had seen before leaving the hospital. Mary. He froze: they weren't alone. In a second, he had passed from nice euphoria to dreadful angst, painfully aware of Thomas' and Minho's presence. He almost felt his entire body shaken by small but terrifying shudders. Fear. It was fear.

What if she said something in front of Minho? Thomas knew and it was enough. He wasn't prepared to talk about it to anyone else than Thomas. His heart seemed to be the only thing that he could hear, pounding loudly at an incredible speed in his chest as he had stopped breathing, watching that woman with widened and anxious eyes.

Minho was standing behind them. Hands in his pockets. For some reason, this woman had a strange effect on their greenie but her outfit gave away her profession: she was a doc. A glance at Thomas and he could see the worry in his eyes. So he knew something. The Asian looked back at Newt. He couldn't see his face but all his being cried of tenseness. Was it because of his wrist? Because he had tried to end up his life in that church?

He closed his eyes, shutting out the questions flooding in his brain. It was none of his business. If it was something they didn't want him to know, it wasn't his place to ask about it. Thomas was his friend and he blindly trusted him: if he hadn't told him anything, he had his reasons.

"I'll wait for you outside." He simply stated before turning heels and heading towards the exit.

Newt felt his body relaxing. He really appreciated the Korean's discretion. Mary waited for Minho to be out of reach and smiled at the blonde, her voice soft and caring:

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I wouldn't talk in front of someone else, except for Thomas since you authorized me to do so on our first meeting."

Thomas was surprised she remembered his name. He wasn't even one of her patients. His eyes drifted to the blonde, he looked a bit more relaxed but still tensed. Perhaps would he prefer to be alone this time? He pinched his lips as the thought made him a little sad but he forced himself to talk:

"If you prefer, I can wait outside for you with Minho."

"No!" Newt half whispered, half exclaimed, his hand grabbing his wrist as his eyes looked at him in panic.

There was fear in his eyes. He was scared. But the scene only took an instant, as his eyes dropped and his features hardened to look indifferent, or only a bit troubled. His hand let go of his wrist, only letting the ghostly warmness of his hand. His voice almost sounded normal, just slightly lower than the usual:

"I mean... If you want to go with Minho, it's okay."

The brunette stayed silent for a few seconds and gently smiled before shaking his head. Newt wanted him to stay. He had got that and, selfishly, it pleased him to think that the blonde needed him. He put his hand on the Brit's shoulder and murmured:

"I'll stay."

The dark brown eyes went back up to him, staring at him with a bit of surprise, and then a sad but grateful smile appeared on his face. The Brit needed courage and somehow Thomas brought him that. He felt stronger with that boy at his side. Or better say less alone. He focused on the doctor again, trying to shut out his emotions for they confused him: he hated the smile on her face just as much he appreciated it. It smoothed his nerves and wrecked them up at the same time.  She watched the two of them for a few seconds and, judging they must have finished their discussion, she simply gestured towards a door:

"Let's go to my office, it will be calmer."

She walked away first, silently inviting them to follow. Newt was rigid, observing all her moves. He should follow but somehow his body didn't want to obey. He wasn't prepared for a consultation with Mary. He hadn't expected to have a talk about his... Illness today. As he didn't move, Thomas pinched his lips and gently slid his hand into de blonde's one, earning his attention, and smiled encouragingly:

"Come on. I'm with you."

The Brit stayed silent, as if surprised, but then nodded and moved. His hand was trembling in Thomas' and soon he had taken it back to hold it. He was afraid. No, he was terrified. Even in this corridor full of people, he could only hear his own heartbeats. All his inner being screamed to run away, to put as much distance between the doc and himself as possible. But it wouldn't change anything, right? He would still have It.

The voices and noises of the corridor extinguished as soon as they entered in the room and Mary closed the door. The deafening silence was worse. Much worse. His heart was thundering at his ears. Somehow he wished he had kept Thomas’ hand into his to be able to squeeze it, to feel like he had something to hold on to. Some courage. He needed it.

The room was quite extricated, in a strange L form, the walls painted in a neutral white and the furniture resuming to a desk and three chairs. There was also a medical bed after the corner. Pretty simple. Mary sat behind the desk, joining her hands and intertwining her fingers as she observed them, visibly waiting for them to sit. Thomas let Newt sat first, near the window, while he sat on the chair near the corridor's door. Mary smiled gently:

"How are you feeling?"

The blonde stayed silent a few seconds before shrugging one shoulder: he didn't really know what to say to that. Fine? Normal? It was tricky. As no other question came, he sighed heavily and murmured:

"Not bad. I'm okay."

"Do you take your medicine?" Mary continued.

"Yes." The Brit replied with a nod. "Just like you prescribed. Tommy makes sure I take it."

Thomas raised his eyebrows, surprised to be mentioned in the conversation and not really knowing if it was a good or bad thing in the blonde's mouth. He let him speak though, knowing it was quite hard to have the Brit speaking and not wanting to waste the doctor's efforts. Mary was studying them, but not in a scrutinising manner: it was almost motherly. She slightly nodded and continued:

"Did you had the supporting groups’ flyers?"

"No. But I don't need them." Newt answered, not looking at her, seeming more interested in studying the changing colour of his hands he was playing with.

"Why is that?" The woman simply asked, not bothered at all by the blonde's bluntness.

"I don't need any shoulder to cry on." The Brit deadpanned. "I'm not despaired."

Thomas looked sideways to his friend. The dark brown eyes were now looking fiercely at the dark haired doctor, as if defying her to say otherwise. Newt had a strong will, a fighting one, and the brunette must admit he quite admire that. And it just gave him another glimpse of the blonde’s despair that night he cut his wrist. But even with the Brit’s rudeness, Mary kept smiling fondly, not disturbed at all by Newt’s offending tone. She simply murmured:

“I know you’re not. Nobody said you were, Newt.” Her voice was calm and soft, just like a caress that could shush all the pain of the heart or like a fresh wind on a burn. “But who would know better what you’re going through than those who are going through it themselves?”

Thomas’ heart skipped a beat. What was she saying? That only seropositive people could get what Newt was feeling? He felt anger rushing through his veins: wasn’t he fighting to help the blonde the best he could? Wasn’t he trying hard to make him comfortable enough to open up? How could a doctor even say that? His eyes went sideways to his friend as he wanted to tell him that they were leaving. But he stopped as soon as his mouth opened: Newt was staring at the doctor with wide eyes, as if realization had hit him. It couldn’t be, could it? Thomas felt as if he had swallowed a rotten lemon. Not that he had ever tried, but his throat was tight and dry, hurting, he couldn’t swallow properly.

“I am not saying that you are to be put apart. Don’t get me wrong. It is just common in those cases that the patient feels misunderstood. And I think you are, judging by your anger. So maybe you could just go there once, to have a glimpse of those people.”

“Those people?” Newt repeated, and Thomas could hear the little tremor in his voice.

The fading resolution tremor. The one that said he wasn’t close to a possibility anymore. He was opening up to something he had refused for a long time. Mary nodded and continued:

“Yes. Those who are going through the same torments and questions than you. Maybe they can answer some of yours.”

Newt stayed silent, staring at her. Different emotions battling in his eyes. Was it fear? Anger? Hope? Thomas looked away, confused. Why was he that disturbed? He should be happy that perhaps someone could help Newt in a way he couldn’t. He definitely should. The noise of the chair rasping the floor made him jump and look back at the Brit: he had gotten up, suddenly looking tensed, his hand fisted. Thomas tried to read in him, but it was really confused. The blonde had a tornado of emotions inside of his head. It almost startled Thomas when he heard Newt groaning:

“I’m tired, Tommy.”

“Newt...” Mary gently called.

“I said I’M TIRED!” The blonde almost shouted, making Thomas to get up hastily. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Newt! Just calm down, okay?” The brunette put a hand on the Brit’s shoulder.

“I want to go home.” Newt sighed, his eyes locked on his shoes.

He looked upset and fragile. And yet so fierce. Thomas nodded and took his hand, pulling him behind him. He gave the doctor a last glance, feeling a bit bad for her since she just wanted to help but strangely, he felt better now that Newt had asked for him. Was it selfish? Possessive or something? He didn’t know. So he just wished a nice day to Mary and pulled Newt outside. The blonde didn’t resist at all, letting his friend leading him out of the Hospital.

Newt’s mind was a disaster. He didn’t know what to think or feel, so he just tried to concentrate on the closest and safest thing around him: this hand in his. The warmness of those fingers around his. Its kindness. Thomas was there. Right there. And it was enough to lead him out of this confusion. He could trust him.

Minho was sitting on the sideway, in front of the main entrance of the Hospital. He looked up at them and frowned at their sight. Something was wrong. He got up and observed them as they came closer. There was something, he knew it. Newt rose his eyes at him and looked away almost immediately, visibly tensed. Scared maybe? The Korean let them come to him and simply murmured:

“Are we heading home?”

“Yeah, we are. Let’s get out of here.” Thomas replied.

Newt looked once again at Minho, meeting his eyes. The Asian knew there was something, but he willingly walked away, leading the path, without asking anything about the doctor or the reason of their anxiousness. No, he never asked questions like that. Light ones, yes, but not intrusive ones. He respected the blonde’s silence, letting him have secrets even if he had come into their flat. The Brit swallowed painfully: how could it be? What were the odds for him to cross the path of those two boys? What were the chances? Newt felt weak and vulnerable, but at the same time, he felt relieved: for he had people on whom he could count on.

He whispered a very low “thank you” into the wind, squeezing the hand in his. Thomas looked at him and smiled gently:

“It’s okay. We’ll be home soon.”

The blonde felt a smile pulling on his lips, not able to not mimic the brunette’s expression, and he nodded, letting him pulling him forward.

“Thank you.” He murmured into the wind.

He didn’t know if Thomas could have heard him, but he could swear he had felt the brunette’s hand holding his tighter for a few seconds. But the short moment of relief passed and the doctor’s words echoed in his head:

_“_ _Those who are going through the same torments and questions than you. Maybe they can answer some of yours._ _”_

 

**To be continued...**


	7. Everyday life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been ten days since Newt arrived in their flat and it hadn't exactly been the easiest: Newt and Brenda can't stand each other and Brenda is not letting go. The Brit is skin-thinned and can't help it but yell at her, all claws and teeth. Meanwhile Minho has a secret appearing in his daily life.

Newt's mood was like a roller coaster, sometimes depressed and sometimes fierce like a beast, or sometimes happy enough to laugh, but it was especially at its worst when Brenda was around. The two of them couldn't be more than twenty minutes in the same room without starting an argument. The last in line was about the Brit's unemployment and the tasks in the flat, the girl clearly reproaching to the blonde to just enjoy the flat without looking for any job. They had begun to yell at each other about half an hour ago and Thomas had all the pain in the world to separate those two.

"Would you guys stop that?!" He exclaimed, a hand on each one's torso.

"Why?" The girl snapped at him. "Why are you always defending him? Can't you see he's taking advantage of your stupid credulity? He's done nothing since he's here!"

"What?!" Newt barked.

"Stop that, Bren'!" Thomas interjected. "You were pretty happy to come back from work and have a clean flat and a hot meal ready!"

"Well sorry but that's not what I call a contribution!" Brenda loudly countered. "I mean, Tom, open your eyes! He's living in the room you're paying without giving you a cent!"

"Brenda, that's enough!" The brunette shouted.

Newt shook his head and went back to Thomas' room, ignoring the boy calling his name. He couldn't help: that girl was always getting on his nerves. She was like the burning pain you felt when alcohol leaked a fresh cut in the flesh. He sighed angrily and dived into his backpack to grab his new pack of cigarettes. He wasn't especially proud to smoke again but he had felt the urge coming back during the past ten days and he needed to relax. He took his jacket, hiding the cigs in one of the pockets and got out of the room.

Thomas was still in the corridor with Brenda but they weren't yelling anymore, even if their faces and bodies were tensed. The brunette blinked when seeing him with his jacket on:

"Newt... Where are you going?"

"To get fresh air!" The Brit snapped before getting out of the flat and banging the door behind him.

As soon as he was out, he sighed deeply and looked at the floor: he felt bad to have spoken like that to Thomas. He didn't deserve that. But Newt couldn't be less aggressive, not with Brenda around. That girl kept getting on his nerves, again and again. He shook his head and got down the stairs into the street, walking a bit so he couldn't be seen from the flat: for some reason, he didn't want Thomas to see him smoking.

Why? It wasn't any of his business after all. Newt put a cigarettes between his lips and enlightened it. The first inhalation was like a benediction for his nerves. He closed his eyes as he could feel the smoke descending down his throat, and let out a smoggy sigh in the air of the night.

It's been ten days since he had met Harriet's grandmother. He went once a day to see her and called her now "granny": she disliked to be called "Ma'am" apparently. He liked to go there and rest a bit, away from the flat. Even if he was always nervous to see Mary. The doctor wasn't a bad person, but she always looked at him with those sympathetic eyes that gave him the will to yell at her he didn't need her pity. With Mary at the hospital and Brenda in the flat, he was quite often in a bad mood. And he hated it.

Thomas never mentioned it though. Always looking at him with hurt puppy eyes. Newt sighed deeply and took another long inhalation: the brunette didn't deserve that. He had been nothing but nice to him. The only few times he could bark at him was when he had an argument with Brenda. Because they wouldn't calm down nor listen if Thomas didn't yell too. Newt sat on the edge of the sidewalk and simply looked at the burning end of his cigarette while letting his thoughts run around.

He had promised himself that he wouldn't act on his attraction to Thomas. But at the same time, he needed his presence, his voice, his understanding... Thomas was the only one he would trust blindly now. The boy had, in a few days, taken in the blonde's heart the vacant hole his family had left. Maybe not intentionally, but he had. Never letting Newt down, never making him feel unwelcome and never mentioning the various times when Newt had yelled at him when angry because of Brenda. No... He had never let him down.

The Brit bit his bottom lip. After a great anger, he often felt depressed, thinking too much. That was generally when guilt decided to bite him viciously: he had to prevent Thomas to like him too much. But at the same time, he needed him so desperately. His attentive honey eyes and his tender smile was what kept him going, kept him from falling. He always felt like walking on the edge of a cliff, and Thomas was the rope securing him. He took another deep nicotine inhalation and sighed heavily: what was he doing? What would Thomas think if he saw him like this? Smoking when his body defences were weakening? He closed his eyes to just listen to the world, trying not to think anymore. A honk, traffic roaring lowly but continuously, people talking in the distance, a bus or a truck passing nearby, footsteps of someone jogging...

"Newt?" A voice came, making the blonde's eyes brutally open as he looked at the source of the voice.

Minho was standing there, in sweater and shorts, out of breath and sweating. He had been jogging. His eyes went from Newt's to the cigarette at the end of his fingers. The blonde opened his mouth, searching for words, an excuse, anything in fact, but nothing seemed to want to come. What were the probabilities for Newt to meet Minho outside during his jogging? He definitely was running out of luck lately.

"Minho..." It was the only word that came out.

"Don't bother." The Asian shrugged, putting his Ipod and his earphones in his pocket.

"I guess... There's no need to toss it out now." Newt sighed.

"It's not like I care." Minho shrugged again. "You do what you want. At least you don't smoke in the flat, thanks."

The Brit was dumbfounded at first, and then remembered that Minho didn't know anything. His eyes dropped and sighed. The Asian was still staring at him, but not in an inquisitive way, a smirk pulling on his lips:

"Let me guess: Brenda is not welcomed in Great Britain."

"Slinthead." Newt smirked back.

"You two are really a pain in the ass." The Korean sighed. "Seriously, love each other, guys, make babies."

"Thought Asians were kindness and respect personified." The blonde groaned.

Minho burst out of laugh, visibly very amused. Newt smiled and gestured for him to sit at his side, which the boy did, staying a bit away though because of the cigarette's smell. The Brit murmured:

"I'm... Sorry..."

"For what?" The Asian rose an eyebrow.

"For always arguing with her..." Newt sighed. "She's your friend and... I should be nicer. You guys let me stay."

"Oh, so if I ordered you to be my slave because you owe me your roof, you'd do it?" Minho growled. "Don't be stupid."

"Min-"

"Thomas invited you in. We accepted. End of the story." He continued. "I don't know why she's acting like this. I mean, I understand her reasons but not her attitude, always aggressive."

"She's your friend..." Newt objected.

"And as a friend, I'd told her if she's doing clunk." Minho turned his gaze at him. "You're a nice guy in a shucked situation. I got that much."

"I..." The blonde bit his bottom lip.

"We all have our secrets." The Asian cut him. "Don't tell me if you don't want to."

"Thanks..." Newt gently smiled, baffled by that guy's kindness.

"You're welcome, your Majesty." Minho smirked.

"Shuckface." The blonde smiled gently.

"Urgh. Don't "shuckface" me with that cute face. It's totally wrong and worse."

They both burst out laughing at that. It was good. Newt really liked this feeling, being able to just laugh and forget the rest. He had had to meet Thomas and Minho to learn to do it again. To just let go. He tossed the end of his cigarette far away and sighed slightly as the laugh calmed down.

"I'm gonna go back." Minho announced, getting up. "I'm beginning to freeze in shorts."

"Oh, right. I'll come with you." The blonde followed the movement. "Huh, Minho?"

"What?" The Asian looked at him.

"Could you..." The Brit bit his lips one second. "Could you not tell Thomas?"

"About the cig'?" The Korean shrugged. "It's not my business. But Thomas isn't stupid, you know."

"The smell?" Newt guessed and sighed when his interlocutor nodded. "I know but... I... Can't tell him. Not now..."

Minho didn't comment and moved forward, followed by Newt. It was none of his business but seeing the blonde smoking bothered him. And it bothered him to be bothered by it. He pushed the thought away and just walked, hearing the footsteps of his newest roommate just behind him. He wouldn't get involved. Not yet. Plus he had other problems...

Should he talked to Thomas about them? No... Not yet either. The brunette had already enough to think about with the Brit. The sound of the voice of the blonde took him out of his thoughts:

"Thank you."

"For what?" The Asian frowned, looking back at him.

"Everything."

There was a smile on his lips, but the Brit's eyes were still full of sadness... A perpetual sadness only chased away the few times Thomas and himself made Newt laugh. He wondered why, but wouldn't ask. Even after those few days being flatmates, he didn't feel he had the right to. He shrugged:

"If you feel like it."

"I do."

They walked side by side to the flat and Newt let Minho go first, sliding behind him. Brenda was happy to see the Asian and didn't see as the blonde walked to the room, a smile on his face at the idea he had used Minho as a screen to hide him. He definitely didn't want to see her now and start a new argument. As he opened the door, he spotted Thomas lying on his bed, visibly tired.

Thomas... He had yelled at him before leaving. He pinched his lips and stepped forward, approaching. The brunette's honey coloured eyes followed him as he came closer, until he stopped right in front of him. There was no anger in them, nor any resentment. Only tiredness of the entire situation. Newt hesitated and murmured:

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to snap or yell at you..."

"I know." Thomas replied.

"I... Won't say I'll make efforts..." The blonde sighed sadly. "I know I can't keep that promise. I'll get angry and fight with her again."

"I know you're trying." The American gently smiled.

That smile. That "gentle" smile, somehow sad and resigned. Newt hated when Thomas felt obliged to smile to him. He hated when he felt as if he had disappointed Thomas, even if disappointment wasn't really the term. It was as if he had let the brunette down. Thomas looked away and Newt couldn't take it:

"I'll go to a meeting."

"What?" The brunette looked at him, taken aback.

"I'll go to one of the support group meetings.” The Brit repeated. “I... I’ll make some efforts in that way at least... But...”

He hesitated. He wanted to do something to show Thomas he wanted to do something concrete. To thank him somehow too. Because even if the brunette had never said anything about the blonde staying at home, Newt still heard Brenda’s accusations about him just taking advantage of Thomas’ credulity. He had dropped his eyes, looking at the ground as the scene of the girl shouting at him replayed vividly in his mind. His nails dug viciously in his palms as he clenched his hands into fists: he wasn’t taking advantage of Thomas, was he? Was he being too easy on himself because knowing he had a roof above his head no matter what?

“Hey.”

Was he being some sort of dead weight? Was he no better than this? His stomach started to ache as often when dark thoughts came crawling in his mind. But suddenly, something hit him and he lost balance, falling on his butt. He looked up at the brunette with wide confused eyes as the boy laughed: he had just thrown a cushion at him:

“Don’t think too much. It doesn’t suits you.”

“What are you talking about?” The Brit stiffened.

“You. I don’t like when you think too much. You always look like you’re going to leave.” Thomas shrugged and pulled a face. “Or like you’re gonna bang your head in the wall. Which is not better.”

“I’ll never do that.” Newt stated.

“Bang your head?” The brunette asked. “Or leave?”

There was a moment of silence while the blonde just stared at him. Leaving? Was that one of Thomas’ concern? The American smiled and gestured him to come and sit on the bed. Newt obeyed, getting up and joining the boy. As he sat, he inhaled deeply and murmured:

“I won’t leave. Not just like that. Not after all you did for me. I’m not that kind of a coward.”

“Never insinuated it.” Thomas rolled his eyes and put his hand on the blonde’s wrist.

He felt Newt tensed under his touch but didn’t take his hand back. He didn’t want to. Even if Newt felt uncomfortable with it... Because it was so wrong to see the blonde fleeing the contact. His dark brown eyes looked up at him, visibly wanting to put some distance between them, but not daring to neither. What could possibly go through that blonde head of his? He wondered... He smiled gently and murmured:

“It’s okay if you need time.”

“Thomas...” Newt whispered.

“I might never been able to understand what you’re going through but...” The brunette sighed, frustrated. “But I can listen and try. ‘Kay? I’d like to be able to help but... If you need someone else’s help, then I’ll go with you, if you want me to.”

The Brit looked at him with wide eyes. Could he even have hoped for more from a guy who had been a perfect stranger not so long ago? He huffed an incredulous little laugh and smiled slyly to that boy he was learning to trust blindly and from whom any little word could warm up his heart.

“Thanks, Tommy." 

The brunette smiled, pretty pleased to hear that nickname again. Everyone called him Tom, except for Newt. The blonde used to call him like that when he felt at ease, happy or just thankful so Thomas liked to hear it. He smirked:

“Any time.”

“Shank.” Newt groaned with a smile.

 

 

Meanwhile, at the other side of the apartment, their two other roommates were discussing on their own. Minho sighed deeply, more than desiring a shower at this stage of the day, especially after running, but he knew better. Brenda was doing her best not to explode:

“Seriously, guys, what is wrong with you?!”

“What do you mean?” The Asian asked a little bit grumpier than he’d prefer.

“It’s what I’ve tried to tell Thomas all along! For Christ sake! Can’t you see it coming?” The girl asked, exasperated. “Soon enough, it would be winter and we won’t be able to get rid of that guy who’s definitely taking advantage of us to have a warm little flat without doing nothing!”

“Bren’...” Minho grumbled. “Let’s see this right, okay? You can’t stand him and you want him out. You’re just looking for an excuse.”

“How can you say that? What side are you on?” Brenda defended herself. “Why am I the bad one in this?!”

“I don’t care, Bren’. That’s where you’re wrong.” The Korean got up of his chair. “The guy has meant or done no harm so far. Just let go for now.”

His roommate wasn’t getting any of it, he knew it, but he would certainly not tire himself on that tonight. Plus, he had quite began to like the blonde: he seemed to be always haunted by dark thoughts but he never failed to offer him a smile, even a weak one; he had also cooked many times for them when they worked so they could enjoy a hot meal just when getting home... He shook his head and left the girl’s room: she was stubborn and wouldn’t change her mind.

Girls... Sometimes he couldn’t get them. He was more of the straightforward type. Arriving into the bathroom in order to take a shower, he raised an eyebrow when hearing his mobile vibrating on the console. A message. He took his phone and smiled when reading:

**_Hey. How are you doing?_ **

Very simple, but enough to amuse him. His thumb danced on the screen, quick and efficient.

**About to take a shower after running. You should come someday.**

He didn’t even put the phone back on the console, knowing that his interlocutor would answer instantaneously. And he wasn’t disappointed: the machine vibrated only a second after:

**_Wouldn_ ** **_’_ ** **_t run, even with a serial killer after me._ **

Minho laughed slightly and thought for a second. Should he? He bit his bottom lip. He was still a bit uncomfortable about it but, at the same time, he really enjoyed the small chats, the little emoticons now and then... It had been a week now... He inhaled and wrote:

**And just to be with me?**

Should he? No... No, he shouldn’t. He read three or four times the short message, wanting to send it and, at the same time not daring to. But another message appeared on the screen and a smiled pulled on his lips, from one ear to the other:

**_But maybe you could convince me... ;-)_ **

He laughed and put the phone aside, taking off his clothes and going into the shower. Where was it going? He didn’t know, but somehow he liked it even if a little voice in his head kept saying that it was a bad idea. He might not resist... Another vibration. He smiled. He might be screwed, in fact.

 

 

**To be continued...**

 


	8. Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Newt is finally opening up to someone, and decides to go to a support group meeting, Thomas wants to help him. But what if it means that he can miss something in his own life?

The sun was slowly appearing on the horizon, chasing little by little the darkness of the night. Thomas was eye opened, on his bed, his hand supporting his head as he was watching his sleeping roommate in the half-light. Not in an awkward way, but he didn't want to get up when risking to wake the blonde up. His own alarm wouldn't sing before at least one hour and a half, so he was watching him, lost in his thoughts. Newt was asleep, his chest going slowly rising at each respiration, his features relaxed... He seemed younger when he slept. A fact that made Thomas feeling like this illness was unfair. But all illnesses were unfair and no one was too young to be sick…

Newt had told him he would go to one of the support group meetings. The brunette knew the Brit was uncomfortable with it, but he seemed ready to make the effort. Thomas felt glad about it but anxious at the same time: would it be good for the blonde? Would he feel helped? Listened? Would he think he didn’t need Thomas anymore? The selfishness of the thought made the brunette sick. It would be a good thing if Newt didn’t need anyone but just choose to stay with whoever he wanted... He didn’t have the right to feel important because the blonde needed a presence, a support. Newt moved slightly and Thomas stopped breathing, wondering if the boy might wake up, but the Brit only changed his position on the air mattress and sank back in a deep sleep. It was the only moment when Thomas was sure Newt wouldn’t burst of anger. The last few days had been pretty tough with Brenda and Newt fighting almost each time they saw each other. Even the meals had become awkward: most of the time, the blonde wouldn’t talk or only if he was asked something or if Brenda had arrived later and the boys were already in a big conversation.

He sighed and finally decided to sneak out of the room. Hopefully, he was good that day and managed to get out without making anything fall or tumbling. He closed the door and went straight to the kitchen, lost in his thoughts again, and started as he met Minho in the said room. The Asian had been just up judging by his hair that wasn’t quite as wild as the usual. Thomas pressed a hand against his chest as his heart went racing and whispered:

“You freaked me out!”

“That will be my just-out-of-bed face.” Minho smirked. “How come you’re up that early?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” The brunette mumbled.

“What is going through that shucking head of yours? Come on, tell Daddy.” The Korean sniggered as he poured some juice in a glass and handed it to his roommate.

“Shank.” But there was a smile on Thomas’ lips, even if it faltered. He couldn’t be totally honest with his best friend but he could say a few things nonetheless. “Newt will go to a support group.”

“Well...I guess it’s a good thing.” Minho shrugged, sipping on his own drink. “The best might be a psychiatrist though: trying to end your life alone in an abandoned church isn’t really my vision of having the best time of your life.”

“Yeah...” The brunette bit his bottom lip, thinking.

The Korean sighed slightly: he didn’t fancy to see his friend so down and knowing the cause of it. He finished his drink and looked up at his roommate, putting his glass in the sink:

“You can’t have it all, man.”

“What?” Thomas blinked at him like an owl awakening in the daylight.

“It will never be all bright and fine here.” Minho deadpanned. “You’re like the guy waiting for a rooster to lay an egg and wondering why it’s not working.”

“Er... What have you been drinking for breakfast, Minho?” The American asked, not sure where it was heading.

“What I’m saying is: don’t hope for Brenda and Newt get along, because they won’t.” The Asian stated. “I’m not a soothsayer, but it’s pretty obvious: Brenda thinks Newt is a profiteer and wants him out of our lives; meanwhile Newt thinks she’s a bitch, which I can’t reproach him considering her behaviour for the last days.”

“So what?” Thomas blurted out. “What am I supposed to do?”

“It’s not your call.” Minho shrugged. “Do what’ll let you sleep at night. Just be prepared for anything coming ‘cuz it might be pretty ugly.”

“Sometimes, I wonder which side you’re on...” The brunette murmured, not quite pleased to say it.

The Asian offered him his usual grin, this half-tender half-mocking smile he always pulled on when talking patiently to someone a bit slow to catch up. Thomas wrinkled his nose and shook his head, letting Minho leaving the kitchen, but as he was at the edge of the corridor, the Korean looked back and smiled:

“Yours, always.”

A smile pulled on Thomas’ lips. That stupid shank... He shook his head and prepared some toasts, took the marmalade from the fridge and came back into his room. Newt was still asleep. Thomas sat near the air mattress and put the plate of toasts and the marmalade aside and slightly shook the blonde’s shoulder:

“Hey... Wake up.”

“What is it?” Newt mumbled with a sleepy voice, his hair defying Minho’s.

“Just me waking you up.” Thomas smiled.

The Brit groaned but sat up and rubbed his fist against his eye. He blinked a few times and looked at the toasts before focusing back on Thomas, a bit more awake:

“What’s that for?”

“Breakfast.” The brunette shrugged.

“In your room?” The blonde raised his eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Thomas smirked.

Newt kept waiting for any reason but as his roommate leant in to prepare a toast and handed it to him, he realised the boy wouldn’t give him any reason. He sighed, beginning to think that he should get used to it: Thomas just acted, without thinking too much about it. He took the toast and bit in it.

“So... Do you still accept me coming to one of the support group meetings with you?" Thomas asked.

"Yeah. If it doesn't bother you." Newt replied, smiling slyly. "Thanks, Tommy."

"Stop thanking me, Newt." The brunette chuckled. "Let's check their schedule, shall we?"

The Brit nodded and waited for his roommate to bring his computer on the bed. They firstly checked what people said about it on internet: the group seemed wasn't that big but it proposed at least three meetings a week during which people could talk, share their experiences and ask questions. Thomas was glad to read people's feedback about it: it looked like it was a good thing for those whom life weren't exactly easy. He then checked the schedules:

"Okay, so... Next meeting is tomorrow at 6:00 PM. Shuck, I'll be at work 'til 8 at least..."

"Well, there's one in two days." Newt pointed out with his finger on the screen.

"Are you okay to wait?" The brunette asked.

"Yeah..." The blonde shrugged slightly, visibly not really eager to go to his first meeting. "I... Er..."

"Don't fancy to go to the first one alone?" Thomas supposed.

"Not really." Newt admitted. "I... Pretty much don't like to be with a lot of people I don't know..."

Thomas nodded: he had already understood that the Brit was a bit lonely and fierce. He noted the meeting and promised the blonde that if it wasn't what he expected, they would simply leave. It seemed to satisfy Newt and they started to play a video game, Minho appearing only a few minutes after, insulting them for not proposing and he found himself a place to play with them.

 

********

Brenda didn't spend much time with her roommates on the set, preferring to have a bit of space to think properly. She clearly didn't understand why the two boys couldn't get her point of view: the blonde was clearly a parasite taking advantage of the situation. He had tried to kill himself and she wondered why. Could it be he had had money problems and had tried to end it before meeting Thomas-believe-it-all and had then found the perfect nest ? He hadn't pay for more than a few groceries since he had been there. Or maybe would they find him somewhere in the apartment one day, wrists wide opened?

The thought brought back the last memory she had from her father: a heavy limp corpse hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the common room. She remembered it vividly. The way his eyes had been still opened, red with blood, his tongue out of his mouth, the strong smell of piss... She shook her head to get that image out of her mind. She was getting nervous: in two days, her father would have turned 54.

"Bastard..." She whispered.

She knew it wasn't totally true but she could only hate him for that. For leaving. She had to hate him to be able to keep living. And she wouldn't stand another thing like that. Neither would she want her two roommates to assist to something like that someday. The only solution was the departure of the blonde.

She wondered why Thomas liked him that much. Even with his rescue dog soul, Thomas wasn't that blind. Could it be that there was something else behind all that? Could it be that Thomas chose not to tell them everything? He had been pretty upset when Brenda had asked about Newt's family... As if the whole situation bothered him. Could it be? Perhaps it was time for her to have a look by herself instead of waiting for someone to tell her anything at all...

She would know and finally understand why Thomas was so decided to help that perfect stranger despite her warnings. She would see what Thomas valued enough to fight with her. She needed to know.

Meanwhile, far from there and totally oblivious of Brenda's thoughts, Newt was sitting on the chair near the bed of Harriet's grandmother. He smiled gently as he helped her eating, giving her some mashed potatoes with a plastic fork.

"Here you go, Granny."

The old woman smiled fondly at him and opened a toothless mouth to eat what he gave her. She really seemed to enjoy the blonde's presence, even if she still couldn't speak: her eyes said a lot and she always had a smile for him. As he fed her, he murmured:

"Tomorrow, I'll go to a support group meeting, you know? 'Cuz I'm sick and my doctor thinks it would be good for me."

Her eyes shot up at him and expressed anxiousness. She was wondering why he was seeing a doctor and what was that illness he was talking about. She was so easy to understand, even without words. He kept giving her her meal but talked again as she was now staring at him.

"I've got aids." He shrugged. "I mean, not aids but I'm positive. So... I guess there's no much I can do. I don't know when I'll die but I guess it won't be that far."

The old woman pinched her lips, empathy shining in her dark eyes, and gently put her hand on Newt's arm, patting it slightly. The boy stiffened and he took back his arm, whispering:

"Don't. I'm sick. I don't want you to catch it, Granny."

The elder wrinkled her nose and gave him a little slap on the arm, as if saying he was talking nonsense. Newt smiled slightly at that and decided to give her another fork of her meal. He really enjoyed those moments: Granny, as he called her, hadn't a bad temper, she was pretty easy-going and always  seemed very happy to see him. Every single time, her face would lit up at his sight and she would stretch her arms at him, just like a little kid would do. It was nice to see so much joy in someone's eyes just because he appeared at the door. The poor woman didn't have much to do and Newt wondered if he wasn't bothering her when telling her his everyday life, but she seemed genuinely interested so he kept doing it.

"Thomas will come to my first meeting." He said after another fork of smashed potatoes. "He... He really is a nice guy... I don't know what I'd do without him..."

The old woman smiled as she slowly masticated her meal, visibly all ears. She wanted to know more. Newt smiled and much obliged to tell her a little bit more:

"I told you that he found me in that abandoned church, remember?" He waited for her to nod. "It was what, two weeks ago or something like that, and since then... Well, he let me sleep at his flat, lend me clothes... He's always there, you know. He believe in me and... I could never ask for more from a total stranger at the beginning."

The granny smiled happily at that and affectionately patted the Brit's hand. He huffed a small laugh at that, even if taking his hand away, and finished to give her the meal before putting the tray aside. It had become a habit: he came in the day and helped the old woman with her daily routine. She had made it clear by gestures and attentions that she was bored by her stay at the hospital. Hopefully she could get some sleep sometimes and she liked it because the day seemed shorter. Her eyes began to flutter and Newt smiled as she was slowly dozing off after eating. He waited until he was sure she slept and he got up, leaving her to sleep in her room. As he walked in the corridor and closed the door, he was surprised to see Harriet’s mother coming: she was supposed to be at work. The woman smiled as she spotted him:

“Hi Newt.” She saluted. “Here again. Thank you for coming everyday.”

“Well, I haven’t got any job yet so…” He shrugged. “It’s nothing, Ma’am…”

“Oh, come on, call me Lisa.” The dark skinned woman slightly laughed. “How is she?”

“She’s doing good.” Newt murmured. “She didn’t talk but… I understand when she wants to say something. She just ate and she is sleeping now.”

“Alright.” Lisa deeply sighed. “I tried to get out of work in time for lunch but I couldn’t make it… Thanks for being there instead of me. You’re the cutest.”

“I…” The blonde blushed.

“She likes you.” Harriet’s mother smiled. “And I am glad she’s not always alone… Me being at work and my daughter at school. Neither of us can skip.”

“Well I’m glad to come and help so it’s all good for me.” Newt assured.

Lisa’s smile was tender and thankful. The Brit used to see that smile on his mother’s face. But now it looked like a long time ago. His face must have looked serious because the woman came closer, concern all over her face:

“Newt, are you alright?”

“Yes, sorry, I… Spaced out.” The boy whispered.

“You are worried.” Lisa stated.

She didn’t know. Newt had only told the grandmother about his illness. But it wasn’t the only thing running through his mind. His dark chocolate eyes looked back at her and Lisa shivered for how sad they were. Newt looked away:

“I just wish I’ll find something soon… I don’t like to depend on others…”

“You mean a job?” She asked even if she knew the answer.

“Yeah.” The Brit plunged his hands in his pockets. “I think I’ll work in Mcdonald’s if I have to. But.. I’d like to try to find something else before.”

The woman nodded, understanding. She smiled and encouraged him gently but didn’t insist, sensing the Brit uneasiness. They said goodbye and Newt walked away, almost fleeing. He really had difficulties to speak with other people, the granny was the only exception. He felt so small compared to them all… He still felt uneasy because of his sexual orientation, disconnected because of his family’s reject, abnormal because of his sickness, weak because of his suicide tentative, miserable for having been found that way, useless for not having a job, stupid for feeling terrified of going to one of those support group meetings… He really had to do something about the way he saw himself, because he despised this moaning and crying guy he felt he was becoming.

He cautiously walked through and out of the hospital, not wanting to see Dr. Mary. He would have to see her at their weekly appointment, and that was enough. She was nice but she just made all his sickness more real. He ran to the bus and decided to go back to the flat: he would spent the rest of the day on Thomas computer, looking for a job. He would find one. He had to.

 

On the set, Thomas was taking a break, sitting on stairs at the side of their set and discussing with Teresa. The make-up artist had been asking news from his newest roommate since the last time she had seen him. Because of her schedule, she hadn’t been able to meet him properly yet: Teresa worked on many other sets, lately she had worked on a series thanks to a friend connexion. She listened carefully what Thomas could tell her about why Brenda and him hadn’t spoke to each other today except for their lines. She nodded when her friend finished his explanation:

“That’s pretty harsh. I guess it’s kinda hard everyday in the flat.”

“Yeah… And as Minho said: I can’t blame Newt for not making more efforts towards Brenda when you see how she acts with him.” Thomas sighed. “I just can wish that somehow they will get used to each other.”

“That, my friend, is a nice fantasy to cling on.” His best friend sadly smiled. “But, hey, hope is life.”

“Yeah, sure.” The boy laughed, visibly not convinced.

“Urgh! I wish I could meet him soon.” She groaned. “But I’m so busy…”

“It’s okay, we’ll find a day.” Thomas assured.

Teresa smiled and was about to add something when they heard their director calling Thomas. Alby jogged to them from the other side of the set and the actor wondered if the dark skinned man would tell him something about Brenda: perhaps Thomas hadn’t be the more professional on set or maybe his anger towards his roommate had shown up in his eyes during the shooting…? He felt a bit nervous and mentally thanked Teresa for pressing her hand on his knee. She had a thing to know how he felt without him saying it. Alby stopped in front of them, a smile on his face:

“Thomas, I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?” The brunette repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have a friend that needs actors for a series. One of his principal roles gave him a raincheck. A tall guy, brown hair, clear eyes.” Alby told him, handing him a business card. “So I told him about you and showed him a picture from your Facebook. He said you’d be perfect. I told him you’re a great actor. You’re beginning tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Thomas was dumbfounded by the news. “When?”

“Call him. But I think it’s noon ‘til late in the evening.” Alby smiled. “A series man! You’ll love it!”

And with that, their team director took off, his mind already on another matter. Teresa gave him a wicked smile, too happy for his friend since a job on a series was a great thing to make yourself known: it was a great opportunity for his career! But the expression on the brunette’s face cooled down her excitement: he was looking at the business card as if it was some funeral announcement. What could be wrong? She tried to smile again, but concern bit her:

“Hey, Tom… This is great. You’re a very good actor. It’s a hell of an opportunity.”

“I know…” Her friend wasn’t at all happy, she could say that much.

“Then what’s the problem, Tom? You look like something terrible happened.” Teresa pressed her hand on her best friend’s tight. “Tell me.”

“I have something planned for tomorrow evening.” The brunette pinched his lips.

“Something planned?” The make-up artist repeated flatly. “Well, can’t you postpone it? It’s an incredible opportunity, Tom! What could possibly more important than your career?”

Thomas knew it. He knew this role could lead him to other series, perhaps even cinema. It could open so many doors to him for his future… But even the more logical reason couldn’t shush the terrible feeling weighting on his heart. He looked up to those blue eyes of hers and answered without blinking:

“Newt.”

Teresa’s eyes widened. Did she hear it well? Newt? How could the British boy be a problem in this case? She couldn’t quite understand it and murmured:

“Newt? I don’t get it… You can’t postpone it? Newt would understand, you know. I mean, it’s your career. Your life!”

“I promised.” Thomas whispered, biting his lower lip. “I can’t let him down. And it can’t wait… Even if I don’t like it, he needs it…”

“Tom…”

But at the boy’s expression, she knew he wouldn’t change his mind. That Brit had taken a great place in her best friend’s life. Greater and much faster than she had expected. She sighed, shaking her head and murmured:

“Right… Then call the guy and tell him you caught a cold. And ask if you can meet him the day after.”

“... I’ll try.” Thomas said.

He looked thoughtful and Teresa didn’t like it. At all. She waited for her friend to go back on the set, wondering if she should try to talk to Newt. Perhaps he could put some sense in Thomas’ head. But the brunette had said the blonde needed it. What could it be? Perhaps she could have a word about that with Minho. The Asian had always cared about Thomas… He would know what to do. Because clearly they couldn’t let Thomas turn down such an offer.

So she waited, even if she wasn’t very good at that. Minho was with Thomas most of the time and Teresa began to wonder if she should kill him on sight for how much he played with her nerves. Finally, she took her chance and cornered the Korean in a corridor away from the set, making him jump:

“Jeez! T.! For how much I love being stalked by a girl, I don’t expect her to wait for me behind the toilets door!”

“Shhht!” She commanded. “I need to talk to you about Tom.”

“Tom?” Minho repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What about him?”

“Alby gave Tom’s name to one of his friends. For a series.” Teresa explained.

“A series? Good that.” The Asian smiled.

“BUT!” The brunette girl pressed a finger on her friend’s noise, making him squint. “But Tom doesn’t want to go.”

“What? Why?” Minho’s eyes had widened and were now all focused on Teresa despite her finger on his noise.

The make-up artist sighed profoundly and plunged her fists into the pockets of her jeans. She bit her lower lip as she searched her words and finally murmured:

“He told me he had something to do tomorrow evening. Newt.”

“Newt?” The actor frowned.

“Yeah… When I asked if he couldn’t postpone it, Tom said that he had promised and that Newt needed it.” She told him. “He said that he didn’t like it but Newt had to go.”

“Where?” Minho frowned.

“He didn’t mention that.” Teresa groaned. “But this might be a one life opportunity. We all love this TV show but, come on, we won’t end up here. And Tom is very talented, it could lead him to the cinema.”

The Asian nodded, crossing his arms as he cogitated. Thomas was is friend. And he liked the young Brit, so telling about the support group Thomas had mentioned wasn't an option for now. He looked up at Teresa and slyly smiled:

“I’ll have a look.”

“Good that.” Teresa replied, smiling back. “Thanks, Minho.”

  
  
**_To be continued..._ **


	9. Reunited... Or not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt convinces Thomas that he doesn't need him to skip a good occasion at work to accompany him to his support group meeting. But then, a surprise come up on the next day and his decision is not that sure anymore.

**** Newt had got home few hours before his roommates, taking upon himself to cook something for dinner. They worked, he didn't, so it wasn't as if he would complain about that. But perhaps he should tell something about that to Thomas: he had bought a few things to be able to cook and doubted he could even had some money at the automat now. In less than a month, he had eaten all his savings. not that he had lots anyway, but he didn't want the guys to arrive in their flat just to see they needed to go to the supermarket. So he should talk to Thomas, at least to ask him some money for the groceries. Which wouldn't occur if he had a job. He pinched his lips as he thought about all the resumes he had sent and didn't get replied to. Was it even that hard to write "you don't fit but thanks for applying"? 

He heard the footsteps in the corridor before the key noise and looked towards the entrance. Minho was the first to come in and he offered a bright smile:

"God, it smells like heaven in there!"

"It's only lasagna, you shank." The blonde smirked.

"Well then heaven smells like lasagna to me." The Asian barked a laugh.

With a heavy sigh, Brenda pushed the Korean and walked to her room without another word, not even aware of the tired look Thomas gave her. But the brunette didn't fight and simply looked at the Brit, smiling:

"It does smell good."

"Put your things away and come to eat." Newt shrugged, taking the plate out of the oven.

"My, you do sound like the perfect housewife." Minho smirked as he took of his coat.

"And you, like there wasn't any sale on brains today." The blonde groaned.

The Asian laughed but didn't push it any further. He came and sat at the table, smiling like the Cheshire cat as the food dropped in his plate. Thomas sat at his side and thanked their roommate for the meal, making him slightly smile. They didn't wait for Brenda since the girl didn't seem to want to join them. Minho hummed in delight:

"You sure know how to cook!"

"It's only lasagna." The blonde answered, raising an eyebrow. “Anyone with Google can do that.”

"Shuck, can't you take a compliment?" The Korean groaned. "I can't make shucking lasagna!"

"Alright, alright. Thanks." The Brit smirked. "My inner cook is flattered."

"Can I have refill?" The Asian asked.

"Oi, Minho, it's Brenda's share." Thomas intervene.

"Well, absents ones are always wrong." His roommate smiled as he took the last bit of lasagna.

Newt wanted to laugh but contained it since he didn't want to upset Thomas about it and kept playing with his fork in his plate, stabbing his food as he wasn't that hungry. It was when Minho's voice came :

"Oi. Queen of England."

"What?" The blonde looked up at him, not even rolling his eyes at the nickname.

"Can I come with you tomorrow evening?" The Asian asked simply.

"What??" Newt's eyes had widened and his voice just echoed Thomas'.

"Tom-boy here has a big opportunity for his career tomorrow evening." Minho deadpanned and rolled his eyes at his coworker's baffled expression. "Teresa told me about the job offer you had today. And she also told me that you plan on not going so you don't let Newt by himself."

"Minho. I truly believe that this isn't any of your concern." Thomas growled, visibly irritated.

"You... Had a job offer?" The Brit asked, staring at him.

"Yes." The brunette replied shortly, giving a dark look at his co-actor. "But I'm not interested."

"Liar." Minho deadpanned.

"Minho..." Thomas' warned.

"If you wanna invent yourself a life, it's your problem. But don't lie." The Asian replied simply, not even sounding annoyed.

The brunette wanted to talk back but thought wiser: Minho hated lies and was right on that point. He sighed and looked back at Newt who hadn't drop his gaze, murmuring:

"I gave you my word. I'll come with you."

"Tommy. You can't just stand by me all the time. You have your life too." The blonde started.

"Newt..." Thomas groaned, knowing what was coming.

"Go. You have a job tomorrow, just go. I'm big enough to go there alone." Newt insisted.

"But..." The brunette tried.

"I won't go if you stay with me." The Brit stated.

"What...??" Thomas' eyes had widened, watching him in disbelief.

"And long live the Queen." Minho smirked.

"Will you shut up?" His roommate braked before looking back at his interlocutor. "Newt..."

"I'll be fine." The blonde simply smiled.

It was a gentle and reassuring smile. Thomas pinched unhappily his lips and nodded. He'd go to work. But even if he wanted to trust Newt, a part of him still feared that the Brit decided not to go. He wished he could ask Minho but the Asian didn't know exactly what kind of support group it was: he let him presume it was for those who made a suicide attempt. This secret would eat him inside one day. But right now, he had to trust Newt.

"Fine." He muttered.

********

"Hey, Harriet."

The dark skinned girl looked up from her lessons and smiled as she saw her friend coming towards her. Sonya seemed in a good mood and her eyes were shyning with happiness. It had become something very rare to see: the blonde had looked like falling into some sort of depression without her friends achieving to enlight her mood. Harriet kept a simple smile on her lips, saluting with a nod her friend's stepfather who looked as suspicious as always. The two girls hugged and Sonya murmured:

"There's something I have to show you. Let's get inside."

"Okay." 

Harriet collected her sheets of lessons and put everything in her bag before following the Brit girl inside the school. As they entered in a corridor and were sure that the stepfather couldn't see them anymore, Sonya's face splitted in a large smile:

"You won't believe what I found!"

"What? Tell me." Harriet couldn't help but smile back at her friend.

"I had totally forgotten about it but as I was tidying my room, I found an old box and this!" She dug a small device of the pocket of her coat. "My old phone! It doesn't have any sim card inside but there still are all my contacts ! And my brother's number!"

The little blonde was so happy she almost squealed and her friend laughed. Harriet applauded to that and searched for her own phone in order to call now:

"Wait, I have mine in there." She groaned, searching in her mess.

"Look, I even found old pictures of him in it." Sonya smiled and showed her the screen of her phone.

Harriet looked up and her smile froze as she met big brown eyes she knew well now. He must have been four or five years younger but it was definitely him, she looked owlishly to her friend and cursed herself for not seeing the similarities between Sonya and her brother:

"Your... Your brother is Newt?"

It was Sonya's face turn to froze and she blinked in surprise. They stared at each other for a few seconds and the blonde girl nodded before murmuring:

"Yes..."

"Oh God! Why didn't you tell me his name in the first place?" Harriet exclaimed. “And how stupid of me for not asking just to not push you!” 

“I don’t understand a thing.” The blonde frowned. “Explain yourself!”

“I know him, Sonya!” The dark skinned girl blurted out. “I know him and I know where he is!”

“What...?” All colours had left the Brit’s face.

“He’s the one who saved my grandmother, Sonya!” Harriet huffed a short incredulous laugh. “How crazy is that? What were the odds?”

“You... You know where my brother is... “ Her friend repeated, her eyes watering as she was getting overwhelmed by her feelings.

“Yes! And I’ll bring you to him! Let’s go to class and you come to my home after for “homework”, okay?” 

It was a bit too much to handle for Sonya, and people were starting to look at them weirdly since she was half crying and half laughing. But Aris’ confused face must have been the best of them all.

Classes had never seemed to long to them and the blonde girl had definitely not a single nail left after the second hour. The three of them couldn’t even concentrate and the boy even got excluded of History class because of their excited perpetual chatter. At lunch break, Sonya used Harriet’s phone to call her house and was relieved to have her mother on the phone, even if she knew that somehow her stepfather would know about it. It was just easier to ask things to her mother.

“Mom. It’s me, Sonya. I... I have some homework to do with my classmate, Harriet, for Biology class. We have a presentation to do together. Can I go with her after school?”

_ “Well, that’s very sudden.” _ Ava replied and by the tone she had, Sonya guessed the sideway look her mother was probably exchanging with Janson.

“I know. I’m sorry.” The blonde added, quite surprise by the easiness she had at lying. “We thought we would have enough time by working every day at the school library during our breaks but the presentation is tomorrow and we are far from having it done.”

_ “Honey…” _ Her mother started and Sonya knew she mustn’t let her talk right now.

“Mom, it’s counting for the term! I don’t want to have a bad mark because I didn’t have time to finish it with Harriet!” Her voice sounded so dramatic the world could have been living it last hour. “And she’s my friend, she can’t have a bad mark because of me!”

“Sonya can sleep at my place if she wants, I’ll lend her clothes for tomorrow.” Harriet tried.

Sonya stayed silent, listening carefully, biting her bottom lip as her heart was racing madly in her ribcage: her mother was talking lowly to her stepfather, but she couldn’t understand the words. She looked up at her friends, trying to find some reassurance, some comfort. But both of them just looked as anxious as her.  When she heard her mother’s breath again in the phone, she held on hers.

_ “It’s okay. But it is the first and last time you wait for the last minute to do your homework. Agreed?” _

“Agreed!” Sonya had to contain the burst of joy to change her voice. “Thank you, mom!”

She gave Ava her friend’s number and hung up. As soon as her mother was out of reach, she screamed in excitement, followed by her two friends who hugged her tightly. She was going to see her brother after almost a month... After that, the classes were like torture and she found herself more than once watching the clock on the wall, her eyes following the second hand lazily making its way through seconds.

Usually, Harriet and her were amongst the last to leave the classroom, Aris awaiting in the corridor. But this time, they were like three rockets and were out of the classroom before the end of the ringing. They ran out of the school and loudly cursed when seeing the bus leaving. Another one would pass few minutes after but they couldn’t wait. They literally invaded the bus as it stopped in front of them and then Sonya began to blabber:

“How was he the last time you saw him?”

“Er... Well he looked a bit weak but he is well surrounded.” Harriet smiled. “I still can’t believe how crazy all this is.”

“Yep... We were definitely meant to meet each other.” The blonde smiled.

“Yeah. I wish I knew before... “ The dark skinned girl sighed.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna see him now.” The blonde smiled brightly. 

It had been a while since Aris and Harriet hadn’t seen Sonya so happy. She was literally like a child on Christmas day. She kept doing the talking all the way to their destination. They skipped Harriet’s floor and went directly to the fourth one, only stopping to catch their breaths in front of the 483 door. Harriet smiled and took her friend’s hand as she pressed the doorbell button. A gew steps were heard and the door opened on a surprised Minho:

“Well, hello there. Is it already Halloween for you guys playing treat or trick?” The Asian smirked.

“Oh, shut up, you monkey.” Harriet reolied with a smile. “Is Newt in here?”

“Yes, he is.” The Korean nodded before yelling into the flat. “Hey, my Queen! You’ve got visitors!”

If the three teenagers didn’t get the joke, they were totally oblivious to it: Sonya was literally jumping on the spot while Harriet and Aris giggled like junkies who just had there daily dose. A grunt was heard in the corridor and Newt appeared, hands in his pockets:

“What d’you want, shank? I was -” The blonde’s eyes suddenly widened at the sight. “Sonya...?”

The girl lunched forward and it was like a bomb into his head: his little sister was there. She whom he hadn’t hear of in almost a month. She who had said nothing when he had get kicked out of the house. But most of all, that girl who would always be a kid to him and who he should preserve. As she was almost in his arms, his body made a violent movement back to avoid the contact. Sonya’s eyes widened as she stopped on the instant: she visibly didn’t understand and was profoundly hurt. She hadn’t expected this reaction at all.

“What are you doing here?” Newt managed to blurt out.

Harriet and Aris were in shock, just like their friend. Minho had slightly raised his eyebrows at that, but appart from that, his face remained blank. Sonya’s lips trembled as she fought back the tears:

“What am I doing here? I finally found you! I’ve been looking for you since you left the house!”

“Since I left the house?” This time, the blonde’s voice sounded angrier. “I was shucking kicked out of this bloody house, remember? Or did you already forget that night mom and you stayed silently watching it?!”

“What is that?!” It was the Brit girl’s turn to raise the voice. “What could I do?! Nothing I would have done could have stopped it!”

“Right, sure! So let’s do nothing! After all, it’s not like your brother was kicked out of your life!” Newt barked back.

He wasn’t really angry at her. Deep inside, he knew she couldn’t have done anything. She was a teen. A discreet one on top of that. Never in her mind would she thought of defying any adult. He knew it. Yet this month of total abandon was so fresh into his heart he couldn’t help but take it on someone. And that someone was his little sister. That small girl he wanted to love and push away at the same time to protect her from the walking disease he had become.

“How can you say that?!” Harriet decided to intervene, her eyes sparkling with anger. “She’s been miserable all month, trying to find you! Aris even went to your school many time to find one of your friends to get your number because her stepfather is a control freak!”

Newt looked at her as if finally noticing that Sonya and him weren’t alone. The guy was unrecognizable for the dark skinned girl: he had been so nice to her grandmother and for the few times she had seen him, he was calm and reserved. How could he now be so different? Especially with his sister? She couldn’t understand it. Sonya decided to step in once more:

“I kept searching for you! I read the news every single day, fearing you’d be in it!” She moved forward to him, her hand grabbing his jacket. “Afraid that my brother could have died because of the cold!”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Newt suddenly screamed, violently getting out of her grip.

Sonya stayed stunned. Harriet and Aris were flabbergasted. If Minho shared their surprise, he didn’t show it as his roommate  retreated in Thomas’ bedroom, slamming the door behind him. As Sonya burst in tears, Harriet frowned and stepped forward, ready to fight, but was stopped in a second by the Asian’s arm that blocked her way. She sent him an incredulous glare:

“Minho?”

“I think it’s enough. Why don’t you guys leave it how it is for now and go back to your flat?” The Korean calmly asked even if it clearly wasn’t a question.

“Wha-... Have you seen her?” The dark skinned girl turned her anger to him, showing her sobbing friend in Aris’ arms. “I mean: look at her!”

“I’ve got eyes, thanks.” Minho simply replied, his features slightly harder but his voice even. 

“Then how can you-”

“I said: it’s time for you to go.” The Asian cut her firmly.

Harriet stared at him incredulously, in a mix of surprise and anger. But soon enough, resentment was all his elder could see and the girl turned heels, resolutely helping her friends out. At the door, she glared back at him and spat viciously:

“Hope you sleep well at night.”

“Like a baby.” Minho shrugged as if the offense didn't get to him and added. “She’s got you. You’re her anchor right now. Just be worth the role.” 

The dark skinned girl would probably have liked to show him a finger but she decided to turn around and leave, supporting her sobbing friend. Minho deeply sighed and closed the door. Of course he didn’t like to let the blonde girl leave like this, but right now he had another matter in his hands. He let the door behind him and went to Thomas’, knocking softly. Would Newt answer? He sighed and tried again, half surprised to see the handle moving and the door slightly opening. When it became obvious it wouldn’t open more, he pushed the door to find Newt sitting on Thomas’ bed, his knees against his chest, surrounded by his arms, his back turned towards him. 

Minho approached slowly and sat at the edge of the bed, next to him. He waited a few minutes in silence, to see if his roommate would say something. But the Brit staying resolutely mute, he decided to speak first and murmured:

“The way you pushed your sis’ away...” The Korean shrugged one shoulder. “You wouldn’t do it to Brenda, so why to your sister if not for a good reason, right?”

The blonde’s fingers clenched on his jeans and he curled up a little bit more: he wasn’t proud of that move. But it was his little sister... What if he gave It to her? A single cut was enough, right? He sighed deeply and pressed his forehead against his knees. Minho looked sideways at him, pressing his lips together: did the blonde had a cancer? It would be a good explanation to his desperate measure consisting on trying to kill himself. But it didn’t tell him why the Brit always flinched when touched. Maybe was it because he didn’t want to let anyone near him. Anyone who would suffer his loss. No attachments.

He preferred to push away those dark thoughts, not wanting to make any inaccurate guess. He wasn’t the kind of guy always pressuring the others to talk but Newt seemed to need it. Perhaps he just didn’t know how. The Korean thought for a minute, not really at ease but very good at hiding it, and tried:

“The reason you pushed your sister away… Is it the same reason why you’re always fighting not to let Thomas too close to you?”

Newt’s fingers clenched a bit more and his dark chocolate eyes studied Minho from above his arm. Surely he didn’t know if he should answer, but his roommate had never asked anything to him. He had always respected his silences. He sighed unhappily and nodded.

“Always craving for affection but forbidding yourself as soon as you notice it.” Minho nodded.

“I’m not craving for affection.” The blonde groaned, slightly blushing.

“Please.” The Asian smirked. “You definitely wouldn’t mind if Thomas spent his time watching you. You stay close to him and don’t flinch at his touch as much as at others’. Almost as if around him you could forget the situation for a few seconds… And then step back when it bits you.”

Newt was now staring at him, eyebrows furrowed in an incredulous stare. He pulled a face and mumbled:

“What are you? A shucking mind-reader?”

Minho laughed at that, visibly bemused by such remark. He shook his head as if it was the joke of the century and then looked back at his roommate and smiled:

“It’s my birth talent.”

“Bloody slinthead.” Newt smirked.

“That’s my cute little nickname actually.” The Korean laughed.

“Why am I not surprised?” The Brit shook his head and sat normally on the bed, slightly more relaxed. 

“Say…” Minho let the fun aside and simply asked. “Do you want me to accompany you to your meeting?”

“No, I…” The blonde bit his bottom lip for a second and shook his head again. “I’m not sure if I’ll go.”

Minho wasn't stupid: Newt was still secretive and wouldn't tell him what was this darkness that eaten him from te inside. He could perfectly see that the blonde didn't want to share it with him yet. The Brit looked like he was ashamed of his situation. So maybe the Asian should try a different approach:

“Well, someone’s gonna be disappointed.” He shrugged.

“Thomas?” Newt guessed without any difficulty.

“Hu-huh.” Minho nodded. “You made it pretty clear yesterday evening that you wouldn’t go if he stayed with you instead of goig to work. So he left, knowing he didn’t want it, but because it was best for you.”

“I’m not doing it for him.” The blonde frowned stubbornly.

“No, just for yourself. I’m not saying you should do it so Thomas won’t be disappointed. I’m just saying that he will be when knowing you didn’t go. That’s all.” The Asian stated.

Newt wrinkled his nose and groaned, making Minho laugh his ass off. The Asian patted the blonde’s shoulder, only allowing himself the gesture because the Brit seemed less nervous when his skin was covered by clothes and was now wearing a three-quarter- sleeves t-shirt. He smiled and murmured

“Look, I’ll walk part of the way with you and I’ll go buy some food while you’re at your meeting. Then when you finish, you call me: I’ll tell you if I’m around or if I’m home, okay?”

The Brit slightly smiled and nodded: he could do that. And to be honest, he felt better now he knew that his friend would walk him perhaps half the way to his meeting. The Korean smiled and got up, only stopping at the door when Newt called him:

“Min’!”

“Yes?”

“Thanks… For not judging me.” The blonde nodded.

“Your highness.” Minho made a fake reverence, only to receive a pillow in the face.

“Wanker!”   
  
  


**_To be continued..._ **

 


	10. The support group session

****That was it. Newt looked up to the great building in front of him. The walls were in dark concrete and, with the huge panes windows, it looked like some strange place pulled out of a dark story. The blonde slightly shook his head and decided to go inside: he climbed the few dark steps and entered in a dirty white hall. It reminded him of an hospital but which would have been forgotten for ages. Behind a small counter protected by a window, a woman smiled to him:

“Good evening. Welcome.”

“Hi…” The Brit saluted her. “I, er… I came for a support group.”

“Of course. Have you applied on internet?” She asked him.

She looked in her mid-fifties with her greyish hair tidied in an impeccable blow-dried hairstyle, her cheeks a little too powdered, her brown eye decorated by a fine line of black eyeliner. She looked like a recent version of Mrs Doubtfire. But even with his mind providing him that funny remark, he didn’t feel at all like laughing, just the contrary.

“Excuse me?” He asked when he had already forgotten the question.

“Did you registered on internet?” The woman kindly repeated as if he was missing some brain cells.

“Yes I did.” The blonde replied a bit dryly. “Newt Isaacs.”

“Perfect.” She smiled at her computer as she wrote something and then handed him something by under the counter’s window. “Here is your name tag. Put it on and go to the second floor, please.”

Newt took said name tag and didn’t even tried to thank her: she had already focused on something else. Walking to the old wooden stairs, he took a second to look at the name tag. It really was like in the movies: that red rectangle saying “Hello, my name is” and his first name handwritten in the white line. He muffled a sigh and plastered it on his chest as he climbed the stairs. He didn’t like the place. At all. It made him nervous and the perspective of meeting other people like him wasn’t really appealing. On the second floor, the black wooden doors looked like scars on the old yellowish wallpaper and it didn’t really helped his first impression on the place.

He entered in a large empty room where the only furniture was a circle of chairs in the middle and a table in the opposite corner of the entrance on which were a coffee thermos and a plate of milk rolls. And people. Judging by the single empty chair, he was the last of a group of nine people. Four young adults around his age, three adults in their forties and a senior in his seventies. One of the adults looked up at him and smiled brightly: it was a woman that strangely looked like Dana Scully from the X-files movies.

“Hello. I guess your name is Newt? Come and sit. We were waiting for you to begin our session.”

Okay, so a group of eight participants and one psychotherapist. He nodded, closing the door behind him, and came to join the circle. His tension only grew a bit more, creating like a pressure on his neck. He definitely wished he could be somewhere else, and visibly he wasn’t the only one: around him, many of the participants were already looking at their watches. Or maybe was it just because they all expected that everyone would come early and he was just on time. His eyes went quickly through his surroundings: the man on his left looked like the military type, in his late forties, the face hard and his body looking like rock made ; next to him there was a girl, she seemed in her early twenties with fair skin, hazel eyes and long brown hair. He saw then a young man with Chinese features, black hair spousing the form of his head, seeming lost. Who wouldn’t be? There was also the senior he had seen, in his seventies probably, he wore fancy clothes and looked classy even in this place and in this group. Newt to him was Mrs Dana Scully and on her left was a man Newt wished to never talk to, he looked like an old junkie with dirty blond strands here and there on his head. Near that guy sat a boy around his age, lanky with dark skin and very short frizzy hair. And last, there was a girl on his side: she had light chocolate skin, with green eyes and very short hair dyed in bright red.

It wasn’t really the audience he would have hoped for but they were more or less in the same situation than he. It didn’t really comforted him but maybe that could change: it was only the beginning, right? Or so he hoped. The psychotherapist smiled and began to speak:

“Welcome everyone and thank you for coming. I am Ladena Lichliter and I’ll accompany you in this group support sessions.You can call me Ladena.”

So her name wasn’t Dana Scully. Newt was a bit disappointed at that but this feeling made him slightly smile for a second. Ladena then put aside the papers she was holding and started to explain the modalities of the encounters. The blonde had already read them online but it was encouraging to hear the rules loud and clear i that empty room: it felt a little bit more secure. Even if it wasn’t really the term to designate how he felt. The rules were quite simple:

“Before we start, I want to remind you a few rules. First of all: no phones, please turn them off for the next two hours. Second: you must listen to each other. Everything will stay strictly confidential. Third: you are free to speak or to stay silent. No one will force you to speak if you don’t feel like it. Fourth: you are not alone in here and even if you need to speak a lot, remember that maybe someone else also needs to speak. So no monopolisation of talking-time. No judgement: we are not here to judge anyone, just listen and share. Always in a respectuous way. And finally, the last rule is discretion: you are not to talk about the people you meet here outside those walls. Does everyone agree?”

They all nodded or replied out loud. Newt took his phone out of his pocket and turned it off like many other participants. The phone wouldn’t ring anyway but he preferred to turn it off, just in case, and also to show that he was ready to follow the rules. The red haired girl on his side sent a last text before turning it off. Catching his glance, she smiled and winked at him, making him look away hastily. Why did she winked at him? It wasn’t exactly a speed-dating situation in there. Ladena continued her speech, presenting patiently the therapy:

“So you are all here today to assist a group therapy session. Since we have a few new members in this group, I’ll will present it shortly: what is a group therapy session? A group therapy session is a psychotherapy during which a therapist can see many patients at once that have a situation in common. The goal of this therapy is to allow you to share your story, tell everything you want to tell and that you are uneasy to say outside this building. But most of all to have what we call a “echo” effect, which consist in a feeling of understanding and being understood by people who share your situation. This session is all about verbalizing your emotions. So why not present yourselves for our newcomers?”

She made a gesture toward the man on her left that Newt had already mentally noted as “the old junkie”. The man seemed rather uninterested by all this and loudly sighed before speaking in a slow and I-don’t-give-a-damn tone:

“Name’s Marcus. I’m here ‘cuz I got aids and my doctor says it could help me to be here. But I don’t really see how talking can help. I mostly came for the free coffee and milk rolls.”

That was perfect... Newt really had the sensation to be in that movie called Fight Club. He was now more and more wondering why he had come. But it didn’t seem to affect their therapist who simply invited by a gesture the boy aside to speak. He seemed really uncomfortable and kept his eyes down the whole time he spoke, not looking at any of them:

“Hi, my name is Jeff. I’m 22 and… Well I’ve got aids… I have it because my mother had it when I was born.”

“Wooh. Thanks, mommy.” Marcus smirked.

Jeff clenched his teeth but didn’t look up. And Newt really wanted to punch that old junkie in the face for making that poor guy uncomfortable. Ladena looked at him severely and said:

“No judgement, Marcus.”

“Sorry, Ma’am.” The man replied, not sorry the slightest. “Won’t happen again.”

“It’s not to her you have to apologize.” The dark skinned girl at Newt’s side stated.

“Excuse me, what? Did you say something?” Marcus ironically smiled.

“You’re saying sorry to the wrong person. It’s to Jeff you have to apologize.” The girl smiled back as if she was talking to someone particularly slow.

“It’s okay.” Jeff murmured lowly as if he was afraid to speak too loud.

“No, it’s not.” The bright red haired girl insisted before looking back to Marcus as she crossed her arms. “We are not here to judge. But if you wanna judge if that coffee over there is burning hot, it will be my pleasure to introduce you.”

“Calm down everyone.” Ladena intervene. “We are not here to share negativity. We are here to help each other. Now any other remark like this and I’ll exclude you, everyone understood?”

There was a deafening silence. Newt’s vivid neighbour pinched her lips at that and nodded before simply stare at Marcus. Her green eyes were just as acid as her words and the man clearly thought it twice. He definitely liked too much seeing her angry but he apparently wasn’t that brave either. He smiled at the girl and turned to Jeff:

“I’m sorry, kiddo.”

The boy jumped as if the words had burnt him but he simply nodded and remained silent on his chair, trying visibly to be as little as possible. Newt really pitied the guy who visibly was counting the seconds before the end of the session. Ladena’s voice grabbed the Brit’s attention back:

“Next person, please?”

“Hi everyone. My name is Rachel, I’m 23. Short temper with injustice but I love to have a good laugh around a nice drink. I’ve been positive for the past year.”

She smiled at them as if stating she was untouchable. She radiated confidence and strong will. Newt slightly smiled at that and she returned it to him. Somehow, talking seemed less stressing for the blonde:

“I’m Newt. Positive too.”

The Brit wasn’t the talking type either and definitely not with perfect strangers. Thomas being the only exception. And even those few words were a trial in themselves: admitting he was positive was still difficult. He knew it, but it was something else to say it out loud. When it became obvious that he wouldn’t say more than that, Ladena turned towards the strict man on Newt’s side. The man nodded and presented himself:

“Alec. 47 years old. I was still positive five months ago. I’ve been for four years. Now I’ve got the illness itself.”

The words were like thunder in the Brit’s ears. First the reserve of the man chose of words, not naming aids, but most of all because he had mentioned what Newt’s mind had resolutely wanted to keep at bay of his thoughts: the evolution of his illness. Never had he mentioned it, even with doctor Mary. He had stayed focus on his positive status and his eventual premature death, but never had he spoke of the stages in between. He looked at the man, feeling a profound gap opening in his chest. But Alec kept his strong and proud posture, his eyes resolutely fixed on their therapist.

Ladena explained that they would explore everyone’s situation deeper after each one’s presentation. No one protested. Newt tried to focus on the rest but all his brain could register was the name of people and nothing else. The fair skinned girl with brown long hair was called Beth, the Asian at her side was Cho and the senior was John Michael. No other information could sink in, his mind only thinking about Alec’s words.

Would his own condition evolve like this military guy’s? He realized once more that he knew very little about this illness. But he should have done some research, it was his health and perhaps soon death! He slightly shook his head at his own lack of interest: was he good only at self-pitying or what? Seriously. Ladena said something more but Newt only understood the words after Marcus explained how he had contracted the virus. The old junkie almost made it epic while it was just a story of drugs, or maybe the Brit was totally antipathic to it because it sounded just like his own story. Jeff said again that he had it because his mother had it when she gave birth to him. His mother had been alone since the guy she was with had discovered she was pregnant and she had to work every single day to be able to survive, she had then just arrived in the city to follow the man she loved and when he had abandoned her, she was helpless for she didn’t speak the language of this foreign town. Back then, she also didn’t know that the man she was pregnant of had let her this poisoned curse along with the baby she carried. Working all day long, day after day, she only knew it when he was born.

There was deafening silence in the room. All of them looked at him with sympathy for it was a terrible story to tell and he had delivered it to them with a certain fatality. Newt wished he could say something to him but the words didn’t come. Rachel, at his side, put her hand on Jeff’s knee, and looked surprised when, amongst them all, it was Marcus who spoke:

“I’m sorry, kiddo… Life's a bitch.”

Jeff looked up at the old junkie and slightly smiled, in a silent thank you. It was a strange scene that none of them would have imagined a few minutes earlier. And somehow, it gave hope to the others: the feeling that they could be understood and speak freely. Ladena smiled at that, visibly satisfied with the evolution of this session and invited Rachel to share her story.

The girl looked around at them all without really seeing them, as if lost in her thoughts already. Her happy mood deflated like a cake taken off too early from the oven. She stayed silent for a few seconds and murmured:

“It’s a very banal story, to be honest. I was at a party, with many students of my school. I got drunk and couldn’t say no to some handsome bastard. I thought “whatever, let’s have fun”. Totally oblivious to the simplest thing that people keep telling you every single time: we did it without a condom. And I learnt later that my stupidity had earned me quite a surprise. Because it was stupid, really. It affected all my family and I decided to move to some center for young adults, so I wouldn’t hear my mom calling me a slut every now and then.”

“Thank you for sharing your story with us, Rachel.” The therapist said in a very soft voice, only earning a small smile from the girl.

Rachel looked strong, even if it was obvious that her story kept haunting her somewhere in her mind: her eyes didn’t water, her voice wasn’t trembling and her green irises seemed to defy anyone to say anything about it. Ladena turned then to the blonde:

“Newt? Do you want to share your story with us?”

The Brit felt his stomach clenched and an icy shiver running down his spine. It was his turn. He inhaled deeply and tried to put some order into his thoughts. From where should he begin? How much of his story should he share? His instinct told him to say as little as he could, to avoid all that wasn’t necessary. But hasn’t he promised himself he would try harder? To somehow compensate the trust Thomas had in him? He mechanically passed his tongue on his lips and spoke:

“I… I needed a very long time to admit to myself that I wasn’t like the other boys I knew. To admit that I was, well I am, gay.”

The words weren’t easy to come and he needed to think more than usually before talking. Beth had a little expiration that the blonde couldn’t quite analyse: was it some kind of muffled laugh? But her face was stern so he didn’t think so. Marcus was playing with a little plastic spoon, but he seemed to listen. The others were staring at him, waiting for the rest.

“I didn't know how to tell my mother and stepdad, and I wasn’t really kin on not telling them at all. But I was terrified that they would hate me for it… I was feeling very bad… I went to parties all the time, and there was that one that changed everything… But I didn’t know it back then. There was a group of guys that had drugs, syringes. Their life seemed then much easier than mine and I wanted to forget everything, even for only a few hours. So I put that thing in my arm… And chicken out. But it was too late. Learnt it few months after, at a random check up.”

It was out. He had tell it. Somehow, he feeled a little lighter. It had been good to confess to Thomas, and the feeling now was the same. Perhaps he needed to talk about it… Perhaps he should tell Minho too. He deserved to know after being there for him today. Not judging him.

“So you're saying it was because of drugs?” Beth’s voice suddenly came.

“I…” Newt wasn’t sure he understood the question correctly. Hadn’t she listen? “Well… Kind of. More because of the syringe than the drugs themselves but-”

“It’s not.” The girl cut him. “You are the reason.”

“What?” The blonde rose frowned at that.

“Beth.” Ladena called on a warning tone.

“It’s a holy punishment.” The brown haired girl pursued without even blinking. “For your life choices.”

“You’re saying he’s positive as a punishment for being gay?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Beth didn’t answer but her look said it all. Newt was stunned. If he had had expected someone to be homophobic, he would have said the senior of their group but Beth was visibly of his generation. If he had felt bad about the way he had spoken to his sister earlier that day, he had absolutely no reason to mercy this girl he didn’t know. And it snapped just as Ladena was about to speak:

“I see.” He said and looked at her dead in the eye. “So if this is my punishment, I think I know why you’ve got it then.”

“What?” Her tone was acid.

“Visibly my choices are bad, I got that.” He spoke calmly and couldn't help but smirk sarcastically at that girl. “But perhaps spitting at the face of people, especially when you agreed to not judge, is a reason enough to have aids. Or just die, why not?”

“Enough.” The therapist told them firmly.

But Newt wouldn’t have it. He wanted to see that girl hurt, to see her cry. His smile got more ironic if possible:

“You know what? Your presence here tells me that your God doesn’t love you as much as you wished he did. And your words, trying to hurt me might be just your free ticket directly to Hell. Because if your God allowed me to live the way I do then you're criticizing his work. His creation. How egocentric is that, huh?”

Beth’s face was passing by all the colors a human face could make. Ladena ordered to calm down and looked taken aback when Newt got up of his chair. He didn’t plan to attack physically the girl, it wasn’t his type. But the therapist didn’t know him:

“Newt, calm down. Please.”

“I’m perfectly calm.” He stated, looking at her. “I’m just leaving. All this is clunk anyway.”

And with that, he turned his heels and left the room, not caring to hear his name being called. He had come, he had done his part. As he got out of the building, he fished his phone in his pocket: perhaps Minho was still around? After all, the session hadn’t been very long.

“Newt!”

Surprised, the Brit turned around to found Rachel running to him and stopping in front of him. She seemed a little breathless to have run into the building to catch him up. He waited for her to stand up and saw a beautiful smile on her face:

“Sorry. I’m not really the sporty type. I’m Rachel.”

“I know. We weren’t exactly an army up there.” He replied, a bit guarded after what had happened upstairs.

“I wanted to tell you that I totally loved what you did up there and that you’re my new hero.” She laughed.

He rose an eyebrow and laughed too, amused by that thin girl. She smiled and put her hands into the pockets of her jeans:

“Doing something tonight or you’re free for a drink ?”

“Er… I don’t have any money, I’m sorry.” Newt apologised.

“And British guys don’t let girls pay them drink, do they?” She gave him a shit-eating grin.

“Something like that, yeah.” The Brit giggled.

He liked the girl. She seemed rather friendly and spoke without restrain. A bit like Thomas did. Rachel nodded slightly and tilted her head to the side:

“I’m not far away. We can go to my place.”

“I… Did I mention that I’m gay?” Newt asked, bemused.

“I know you are. And I can tell you’re already taken, so? It’s just for a drink. But if you don’t want to, it’s okay.” She shrugged. “Maybe we’ll meet around.”

“Maybe I can take your phone number…?” The blonde proposed.

“Hu-huh, gay, right?” Rachel smirked.

“100%.” Newt assured with a sly smile.

“Alright, then.”

She came closer and dictated her number as he wrote it down on his phone. She was pretty close because of the cold but for once, the Brit found out he wasn’t bothered by it. Her big green eyes with long eyelashes looked up at him and she smiled:

“I promise I’m not a psycho. It’s just…” Her smile faltered slowly. “There’re not many people I can talk to about this.”

“I know what you mean.” Newt nodded. “I have someone I can talk to… But… I’m always wondering if he won’t get fed up by it.”

“He’s clean?” Rachel guessed.

“Yeah. He is.” The blonde sighed and shrugged. “He’s my… Lifeguard rope, I guess. I’d be lost without him.”

“Is he your boyfriend?” The dark skinned girl wondered, smiling like an excited kid.

“What? No! Never!” Newt almost broke his neck from shaking his head. “I’m not safe for him. I’d never do that.”

“I understand… It sucks.” She patted his shoulder.

Her hand was warm and he was the first surprise not to flinch, not to care. She was sick too… Somehow, he wasn’t afraid to contaminate her. He felt allowed to touch her and let her touch him. It was just as good as it hurt, for others would never touch him so easily. He would never felt authorised to do so. Rachel looked at him and gently smiled, almost shyly:

“Can I say goodbye with a hug? It’s been a while since I last hugged someone.”

Newt hesitated, not sure he should or if he wanted. But her eyes spoke for her: he would hurt her badly by refusing. So he nodded and let her come in his own personal bubble. She was more or less his size and just as thin. He felt like they were alike. Alike in their illness. In their loneliness too. Her body was warm against him, her strength more real than anything he could think of.

They stayed like that for long minutes, just sharing this human contact. Both craving for it deep inside. When they parted, they shivered for it almost felt cold. Rachel smiled:

“Well. It was nice meeting you. See you around, ‘kay?”

“Sure. I’ll text you, so you’ll have my number.” He smiled back.

“Alright. Take care.”

“You too.”

Newt watched her walk away. It was a bit strange, for he had never expected to find some kind of a friend in this support group session. But it was nice to speak to someone who could understand him, really. He fished his phone out to call Minho but his finger stopped before pressing the green button. He wanted to talk to the Asian, he felt like he had to. But his mind also told him something else. Something very important he should do…

Pocketing his phone, he walked. The air was cold and he more than ever felt like a thin piece of grass fighting against winter itself. Was it the illness that made him so fragile? Or was he using his illness as an excuse? He didn’t know exactly. Arriving into the building, he climb up the stairs and stopped in front of a door. His heart was thundering, as much for climbing the stairs as for what he was about to do. He knocked and waited a few minutes before the door opened:

“Hey. Before you beat the bloody shit out of me, can I talk to my sis’, please?”  
  


**_To be continued..._**


	11. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has to talk to his sister. After what he had done to her, he just had to. But the task might be slightly more difficult than he had thought first.

****"So... She preferred to beat the shit out of you, right?" Minho smirked.

Newt had come home with a magnificient red high cheek and his eye half closed. There was no doubt that the thing would turned dark purple by the end of the day after. Harriet was a strong willed young woman, and she could be pretty vehement when her friends were hurt so the Brit had violently met with her fist instead of his sister. But even if it hurt like hell, the boy felt like he hadn't the right to be mad.

"Yeah... That chick is pretty strong." He commented.

"Take that. On your eye." The Asian spoke, handing him a bag of frozen peas.

Newt obeyed and winced at the ice burn feeling. He definitely would remember not to piss off that girl. But he needed to speak to his sister, after what he had done and said... He owed her the truth. Just like Minho. His valid eye went to the Korean as the guy was cleaning the kitchen after preparing diner. Should he tell him? How? Various sentences ran through his mind, each one seeming worse than the previous one. The silence stretched as the blonde tried to find the words... He had to try.

"Min'?"

"Yeah?" The Asian looked up at him, curious.

"I, er... I..." He bit his bottom lip, searching for words.

But they suddenly heard the keys in the front door and it opened on a surprised brunette. Thomas looked at them both, visibly taken aback to find them both in the kitchen with such serious faces:

"Well, hi." He slightly smiled.

"Hello, darling." Minho grinned. "Thought you would be late for dinner."

"Never." The brunette's honey coloured eyes stopped on Newt, raising an eyebrow at the bag of frozen peas. "Your group session was short..."

"Huh, yeah. Kind of." The blonde mumbled.

"You went, right?" The American cautiously asked.

"Of course, I went!" Newt barked.

"Hey, calm down, my Queen." Minho shushed him before looking up at Thomas. "He's grumpy because a girl tried to take out his eye."

"What?" Thomas blinked, surprised. "What the shuck?"

"Harriet got angry at him because he spoke badly to his sister, the girl cried." The Korean explained shortly. "'Cuz Newt's sister is one of Harriet's friends."

"Wow... The world's small." The brunette whistled before looking back at his roommate. "Why did you speak bad to her?"

"I was not in the mood." The Brit grunted.

"Because our Queen is always such a sunshine." Minho teased.

"I'm thinking about taking both your eyes out." Newt groaned.

This made the Asian to laugh so hard he needed to have a sit. Thomas wasn't really sure he could follow but put his things and coat aside to sit with his friends. Newt must have had a good reason to be bad with his sister. As far as Thomas could recall since the blonde was here, it was the first time they hear of his family. Should he insist and ask why? The brunette wasn't sure. But perhaps Newt felt it because he said:

"She tried to hug me."

Understanding shone in Thomas' eyes: the blonde didn't want to be touched because of his illness. He nodded and gently tried to pat the Brit's shoulder through the fabric of his clothes. Newt gave him a small quick smile before adding:

"I still haven't digest my last evening at my mother's."

"Your sister's just a kid." Minho pointed out.

"I know..." The blonde sighed. "That's also why I wanted to speak to her tonight."

"Well... You know to which school she goes, right?" The Asian asked.

"I do. But I guess that Janson has an eye on her." The Brit spat the name of his stepfather. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"Yeah but she has to go to classes and I doubt that this guy goes inside the school." Minho smirked.

"What are you thinking of?" Thomas frowned, not quite following his friend.

"Well. Our Queen here looks like a teen. A bit tall maybe but if I didn't know you I'd give you 17 or 18 at most." The Korean added. "So take a school bag and go in there. You can talk to her there and apologise as much as you want."

Newt considered the idea. It wasn't bad... But he would have to go into a crowded place... He thought of different scenarios, each one worse than the previous one. Somehow, Thomas had grown used to the Brit’s way of thinking and proposed:

"I can lend you gloves if you want."

"Come on, it's not that cold outside." Minho laughed.

"It's not because you're a robot and don't feel it that we don't either." The brunette groaled.

The Asian barked of laugh. But Newt had gotten it and simply nodded, thanking silently his roommate. They ate together, welcoming Brenda when she got back, and she joined them. She seemed in a good mood and all the boys felt relieved because of it: maybe they would have a good time all together for once. The dinner was rather nice, Brenda didn't talk much to Newt, ignoring him most of the time and he did the same, but at least they didn't fight. The Brit felt like he hadn't taken the chance to talk to his Korean roommate, now with everyone in the flat, he didn't feel like it. But he promised to himself he would tell him as soon as he had the opportunity to talk alone with him.

********

It had been a while since he hadn't been in high school. Newt looked around and wanted to turn heels and run for how many teenagers were there. Was his sister even there? Harriet's flat had seemed empty when he had left but now he wondered if the teenagers hadn't just decided to let him outside. What were the odds he could find Sonya in the middle of this? He wore jeans, a sweater, gloves and he wore also the hood of the sweater on his head: he didn't want to come across Janson if that psychopath had decided to check on Sonya. So he preferred to walk in the establishment. The hallway was luminous thanks to a glass roof. It looked huge and filled with people. Newt felt sick: he shouldn't be here. Not in the middle of the crowd. Not in the middle of teenagers. He was like a time bomb.

His heart was beating so fast it almost hurt. He could hear it roaring at his temples. His eyes kept looking around, searching the crowd. His breath was hollow, almost as if he had run all the way from the flat (which wasn't true, he had taken the bus). Was he having a panic attack? He walked to a wall and leant against it. He couldn't stay here. It was dangerous for those teenagers, they didn't deserve that. Newt decided to wait for the bell to ring: there would be less people and if Janson was outside, he would be gone. So he stayed silent and self-centred, trying to breath slowly to calm his heartbeat. The proximity with people was really making him sick inside. Maybe was it better to go back to Harriet’s everyday until she let him speak to Sonya, or until he'd die under her fist.

Her fist. He had been thinking about it all night. What if she had been contaminated? He felt sick just by the idea of it. Seconds seemed to stretch on, feeling like minutes, minutes feeling like hours. He just wanted the bell to ring so they all would go to their classes.

"Newt?"

The blonde almost cracked his neck by looking up so quickly. Harriet was standing at a few metres from him, Sonya and Aris at her side. His sister looked so surprised it was almost funny, but her fleeing glance and the hurt in her eyes killed all the fun. He was about to talk but Harriet spoke first:

"What are you doing here? In case you didn't notice, you're in a high school." Her tone was cold and he knew he kind of deserved it.

"I need to talk to Sonya." He replied. "You wouldn't let me and Janson might as well be outside."

"Oh? Why wouldn't I let you talk to her? I wonder!" The dark skinned girl growled, sarcastic to the bones.

"I... " Newt knew she wouldn't let go, so he decided to speak directly to his sister. "Sonya, I came to tell you that I'm sorry for yesterday. I came to apologise."

The blonde girl didn't look at him. His little sister didn't look at him. The Brit felt like a stab in the heart. He had done that to her, he was the one who had hurt her so badly. Sonya shook her head and stepped back behind her friend. Harriet was between them, crossing her arms defiantly:

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Sonya, please." The blonde pleaded.

"Are you deaf?" The dark skinned girl spat. "You don't get to talk to her after yesterday. Got it? Now excuse us, we have classes."

And with that Harriet took Sonya's arm and walked away, Aris following them with a last nasty look to him. Newt called his sister's name one last time, his voice drowned by the bell. He sighed and turned heels. But as he was going to leave a woman called:

"Hey, you."

Newt turned and looked at her, surprised. She definitely looked like a teacher or someone from the school administration. A cold shiver ran through his spine: if the school reported him to his mother, he would definitely never see his sister again. Janson would make sure he wouldn't by transferring Sonya to another school. And Newt couldn't do that, not to his sister, not after the way he had talked to her. The woman came closer:

"How come you're not in class?"

Damned. Minho had been right when saying he looked young. Seriously... How was he going to get rid of her? He could run away. But then he wouldn't be able to come back again and try once more to talk to Sonya. He mumbled:

"I got lost."

"Well I can show you the way then." The woman said a bit dryly, probably thinking he was trying to skip classes and his black eye certainly couldn’t help less. "In which class are you?"

Oh, he was shucked. His brain ran like a crazy train: he had to say something, anything. And without even thinking it properly, he said:

"Group B4. Er..."

"All right. Follow me then." The woman said, her stare clearly showing that she expected him to obey without a word.

No way out. He just accepted to follow her through the corridors, wondering how he was going to escape that situation. The woman lead him to the biology section, making him climb a pair of floors, letting him short-winded, and knocked briefly at a door before opening it, not waiting for an answer. She looked at Newt:

"Well, get in." And then turned to the teacher. "Professor. I found one of your students wandering around."

The Brit entered in the class and couldn't help but look for his sister. Sonya looked like a deer caught in the lights and her two friends weren't better. Of course they were surprised: what was he even doing here? The teacher looked just as startled as her students, for she had never seen him before. The woman that had brought him just disappeared, closing the door behind her. The teacher frowned and crossed her arms:

"Well, well... Who are you? I don't recall your face. And I haven't heard of any new student."

"I... Er. That's embarrassing." Newt nervously chuckled. "Because I not one of your students."

"Thanks for the honesty." She slyly smiled, amused. "So who are you and what are you doing in here?"

God, he had never thought he would have to speak in front of so many faces staring at him. Suddenly the support group session seemed so small. But he might have no other chance: because after all this, Harriet would probably protect his sister so much he wouldn't be able to come near her, and Sonya would probably block his phone number if she hadn't done it already. It was now or never. He inhaled deeply and murmured in the deafening silence:

"I can't tell you my name. But I wanted to talk to someone in here. Someone I hurt badly... I..." He hesitated and turned to the class even if his eyes didn't search for Sonya this time. "I'm sorry for what I said to you. For the way I rejected you. It was violent and I didn't even explain. I... The reason I pushed you away is because I can't let you touch me. I'm... I'm sick. Really sick."

None of the students said a word. Neither the teacher who had her hand on her mouth, visibly taken aback by that. Had she hoped for a love declaration? Too bad... He felt the tears burning his eyes and his throat tightening, but he didn't allow himself to cry: he still had his pride. He inhaled once more and murmured:

"I don't know how long I've got left. But I wanted to tell you that... No matter what, I still am your big brother... And everything I did, I did it to protect you from me. I'm sorry I hurt you... I love you, lil' one. Keep on the good work at school, okay?"

His voice broke on the last syllable. But he wouldn't cry. He looked back at the teacher and thanked her for letting him talk. His eyes found his sister. She looked at him with wide eyes and was in tears. He dropped his eyes and sighed, leaving the room quickly. He had said it. He hadn't named it properly, but he had said he was sick in front of all these people he didn't know... His heart was a mess, his mind too and soon his face would be too if he didn't find something to do soon. He walked away, fishing his phone in his pocket as he looked around, avoiding meeting anyone this time on his way out. The tone sang three times before the person picked up:

_"Hello?"_

"Hi, Rachel... It's Newt." He got out of the school.

 _"Oh, hey! Nice to hear from you!"_ Her voice sounded like she was smiling. _"I was wondering if I hadn't made you run away."_

"No, you didn't..." He murmured.

 _"Is everything okay? Your voice sounds weird..."_ The girl noticed.

Everything okay... He wanted to scream, to curl up somewhere, to run far away and to pick up a fight against anybody. All at the same time. But if someone could understand him, it was her. So he sighed deeply and almost whispered:

"Can I see you? Like... Now?"

 _"Sure. I'm working in a little shop today. Come around. I'll text you the address."_ Rachel offered.

"Oh, I don't want to disturb if you're working..." The Brit said.

 _"It's okay. Come over."_ The girl insisted. _"I don't have much customers today."_

"Okay. Thanks, Rachel."

As soon as he hung up, his phone vibrated, the screen showing the message with the address. It wasn't that far. He caught a bus and went to the city centre. The streets were crowded like always but he felt better than in the school. Even if there was not much difference. He walked through the sea of people, watching out that no one touched him. He had his clothes on but right now, because of his nerves, he didn't want to be touched by anyone. Anyone but someone like him. The shop was a vinyls shop, all in old decoration: it looked like a shop from another time. There were large vitrines, the front wooden door was painted in bright yellow. There was no one to be seen from the outside. He pushed the door, almost jumping at the bell's sound. Rachel was sitting behind the cash register and she jumped on her feet as soon as she saw him:

"Newt!" She walked to him and hugged him. “Trying to look prettier than me with that dark purple eye of yours?”

It was nice and warm, welcoming and welcomed. Newt chuckled and hugged her back, feeling slightly better in this embrace even if somehow he felt it wasn't exactly what he needed. He was missing something but couldn't put the finger on it. He pushed that strange feeling aside and sighed as he let go the girl.

"Thanks for having me."

"It's not like the customers need me desperately." She smirked, gesturing toward the empty shop.

"Thanks nonetheless." The blonde murmured.

Rachel's smile slowly died as she looked at him with worry. She proposed him tea: the waiter from the café aside liked her and always offered her if she asked. Newt nodded and waited for the girl to come back. He was a mess, the face of his sister staying in his mind, her devastated expression before he left... Definitely, he wasn't much of a good brother to her. Making her cry seemed to be the best he could do. Her sad eyes haunting his vision, like a permanent stain on his brain and heart. Rachel came back with two goblets of hot water, put them on the counter and handed the two tea bags to Newt:

"Mint or Earl Grey?"

"Earl Grey, please." The blonde murmured.

She nodded and poured the tea bags in the cups. She let the Brit have a sit behind the counter, only pushing him to get the sugar that was hidden under the cash register. She gave him one and put one in her own cup, using a pen to make it slowly disappear in the hot greenishing water. She looked up to her friend and gently smiled:

"Wanna talk a bit?"

It was all he needed. Newt told her how his sister appeared back in his life and how he had brutally rejected her. He didn't want to be pitied, because he didn't deserved it, so he described how Sonya had cried, the sadness and hurt in her eyes. He told Rachel then how meeting her at the support group gave him the will to go back to his sister and apologise. And how it ended up at her school, in her classroom, like a pathetic goodbye. Rachel didn't try to cut him or ask anything, she just listened. When she felt he was done, she looked up at him and smiled slightly:

"Feeling better?"

"Not really..." Newt admitted.

"Well, I'm no social help, but at least you apologised to her. It means something." She laughed gently, shaking her head. "Going to her school and being mistaken for a high schooler though... You made my day."

"Shut up." The Brit groaned, smiling nonetheless. "That old owl needs glasses."

Rachel burst out laughing, almost spilling her tea. Newt joined her, feeling a slightly better to laugh a bit. It was a nice feeling after all this. The dark skinned girl had to wait she calmed down to be able to speak again:

"It's true that you look younger."

"Yeah, don't tell me. I'm pretty sure they'd ask for my ID if I went to buy alcohol." The blonde grunted.

"Aw… I'm so sorry for you." The red haired girl smirked, remembering Newt of Minho at that moment.

Minho... He had always been very patient with him. And nice. A bit like Thomas in fact... But in another way. It felt like he knew those two for ages. Rachel must have felt his change of mood because she was giving him a questioning look. He sighed slightly and murmured:

"I couldn't say it in front of my sister... That I'm positive. But I want to tell my other roommate, Minho. He deserves to know..."

"If you feel like this is important to you, you should indeed." His friend smiled. "If you feel like you can trust him, go on: there's not so many people to whom we can say it and who won't judge us.”

“He won't.” Newt assured, he was certain of it.

“When do you plan telling him?” The girl asked.

“When he comes home after his work.” The blonde slightly bit his bottom lip, already feeling nervous.

“Well, I won’t come along, because it would be misplaced but you can call me if you need it. Just like you did today.” She offered.

“Thanks, Rach’. You’re lovely.” Newt smiled.

“I know, right?” Rachel giggled. ”And I can even be more lovely: you’re looking for a job, aren’t you?”

“I am.” The Brit nodded.

“I know someone who can help with that. Just send me your resume by email.” The dark skinned girl caught a pencil and an old cash register ticket, writing down her email address. “It’s someone from an association. They look for jobs for people like us.”

“Like us?” Newt repeated, not quite sure he liked the sound of it: he felt pretty normal and able to work and do his hunting alone.

“People that somehow can’t really search for themselves because stupid subconscious decided they prefered to slowly destroy themselves by sabotaging their own job hunting.” Rachel explained.

“But I…”

“ “I’m not feeling well. I’m tired. I should talk to my sister. I have to go see my doctor. I’m not in the mood.”... Never thought that?” The red haired girl asked.

“Well, yes but…” The Brit tried again.

“People do that all the time. Us more than the others.” She explained.

“Us…” The blonde repeated.

“Yeah, us. Those who haven’t accepted yet their situation. Those who don’t feel sick but know they are. Those who feel like it’s unfair…” Rachel murmured.

“It is unfair.” Newt frowned.

“It is. But you just have to accept it and move on.” She sighed and shrugged. “I haven't yet. So my brain is totally focused on that stage which is acceptance. So people look for jobs for me. So? You’re in?”

“Okay. Why not.” The Brit shrugged. “Can't hurt. And I need a job.”

“Right, let's do that.” Rachel smiled gently  “So… How are you going to announce it to Minho?”

****

The truth was that he had no idea. He had ended up staying two hours or so at Rachel’s work. Only leaving because a customer had come in. He had been very grateful to the girl. She had her way to help him feel better. He had then been walking through the city, not really knowing where to go and just avoiding to touch anyone. He forgot to eat and just went to a library: perhaps could he find some information about aids in a book. He had chosen to change his phone’s options and didn’t have Internet on it anymore. Plus he missed the student library where he went when in college. The silence only broken by pages turning, a cough sometimes, murmurs… This one was a public one but Newt liked it just the same. He went through the aisles and as his eyes were looking for health section, they stopped on another sign. Arts section. His feet refused to move any further... Arts. It seemed so long ago. It was only a month ago... He hesitated and finally stepped closer. He had a few hours before heading home. Surely looking a bit into an art book wouldn’t do any harm.

His fingers ran along the covers and he pulled out a book about street art. The Brit loved this subject, it was fascinating and some of it was really good. He liked how people felt free to express themselves, to take position, to protest… He sat at a table and let himself sink into that world. He had studied this for many months for college and even if it meant classes and teachers, somehow it felt a bit like home. He remembered the stress before exams, the details he was looking for when running through such book. His eyes embraced the drawings, the paints: colors, darkness, light, ugly, beautiful, meaningless, full of anger or joy… There was a certain beauty in seeing people plastering the torments of their hearts on walls, for everyone to witness. He imagined himself painting those walls, the soft sound of the painting bomb, the smell of fresh paint, the cold of the night because of course he wouldn’t do it in the daylight, he could almost hear his heart racing from the fear of being caught… What would his art look like? He wondered.

Page after page, he analyzed the paintings. It was fascinating. Art was like an opened window on its’ creator mind and heart. Some were just the chase of beauty, but others were messages of protest or support, beautiful and strong. They were all different but they all had a soul and were painted with heart. Newt loved it: he could read in those paintings easily and it was like meeting the street painters themselves. This one was protesting against racism and was truly angry against some very known politician, and this one was deeply in love with nature, wanting it to rule the city…

At some point, he looked to his phone as he received a message from Minho:

_“Hey. Can I give your number to Harriet and your sister?”_

He stayed still for a second. Did Sonya want to talk to him? Or did Harriet want to kill him? He sighed and wrote back:

_“Yes.”_

Either of the two options were a bit uneasy. So why not. He looked at the time and swore: he had been in this book for the past four hours. He hadn't see the time flying. He put the books back on theirs shelves and walked out of the library. As soon as he was out, he felt his phone vibrating. Unknown number. He already regretted his choice of letting Minho give his number. But he took it nonetheless:

“Hello…?”

 _“Newt?”_ It was his sister. Her voice was low, almost shy. _“It’s me… Sonya. Calling with Harriet’s phone.”_

“I know it's you. I still know the sound of your voice, you know?” He smiled slightly.

 _“Clown.”_ She groaned, but he could hear a soft amused expiration. _“Tell me… What you said this morning…”_

There was a silence. She struggled to ask. And his throat was suddenly so tight he felt like he couldn’t speak. It was her, his little sister, so fragile little one, that found the strength first:

_“Are you dying?”_

“I…” He swallowed with difficulty. “I’m sick, Sonya.”

 _“What is it…?”_ She asked.

Her voice sounded frightened somehow. She was afraid of the answer. Newt was still walking and felt suddenly very exposed: his heart began to beat faster at the simplest idea that someone could overhear his conversation. He shouldn’t care, he didn’t know anyone around but… Hardly swallowing, he murmured:

“I can’t tell you on the phone… I… I’m in the middle of the street, I… I can’t do this…”

 _“I understand…”_ She almost whispered, but the blonde was sure she said it more to calm him than because she really meant it.

“I… I’m sorry, Sonya… If… Maybe if you get to sleep at Harriet’s again, we can find a way to talk together…” The Brit proposed, but his voice sounded more like a plea to his own ear.

 _“I’ll try.”_ Sonya replied and he could picture her nodding. _“Were you trying to tell it to me this morning?”_

“Yeah… But I don’t know if I would have had the guts so… Don’t torture yourself about what I could have said.” He chuckled unhappily.

_“Okay… Look, I have to go but I’ll text you with Harriet’s phone if I get to stay at hers, okay?”_

“Alright… Take care, lil’ one.”

_“You too, Newt.”_

He looked as the screen turned black again. He could have said that he loved her. This morning he had said it. But it was still odd. They hadn’t said it very often to each other. Not to say never… He wasn’t used to it. But he certainly could do something about it. Later perhaps…

He walked to the bus station and took advantage of the crowd to get inside without paying any ticket. He didn’t have money anyway. He positioned himself next to the exit door: if any controller got in the bus, he’d leave in the second. Thankfully, no controller got in, but Newt stayed alert all the way to the flat. As he walked to the building, he saw that the light was on in their flat: perhaps the guys had they finished their day of work. He climb the stairs two by two, swearing to himself when arriving at the floor out of breath, almost coughing out his lungs, willing to vomit. He needed a few seconds to calm down and walked to the door, keys in hand. He wondered how he was going to talk to Minho and just hoped that Thomas would let him speak: he had to do it alone. If Thomas kept saving him, Newt would not stand up for himself anymore. It would be so easy to have someone to fight for him… But he would never do that. Not to Thomas.

The door opened as he turned the key, and he froze as it got wide opened. What did he see first? He didn’t know. Brenda was there, in the kitchen, sat at the table, arms crossed. In front of her, on the table, were all his medicine. He hadn’t noticed he had so many pills… It was like time had slowed. Brenda looked up at him, her eyes like daggers.

“Newt. I guess we need to talk.”  


**_To be continued..._ **


	12. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brenda discovers Newt's secret and simply blow it up to everyone. Not the best way to have a talk... Especially not with Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting guys. Work and many personal problems have kept me away but I'm glad to give you this chapter. I hope you will enjoy it. :-)

"Newt. I guess we need to talk."

The Brit felt an icy shudder running down his spine. He had thought of this eventuality and had even imagined many scenarios, but right now he just felt unprepared, taken aback. He wasn't ready for that. His eyes went to the medicine: so Brenda had gone through his things. Would Thomas be angry at him for not hiding them better? He wondered. But a strong anger rose almost immediately: that was not the question, she had looked into his backpack! Who did she thought she was? As if he didn't already had enough against her. So he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and simply look defiantly at her:

"Oh... So NOW, you want to talk to me?"

"Hey, don't give me this attitude!" She almost spat. "You're the lying bastard in here! And I was right about you all along. I knew it."

"Knew it?" Newt snorted. "I don't remember you telling me anything about it. Not that I even tried to acknowledge anything you ever said."

"You play though for now. But wait for the others to know you lied to them too." The girl growled through her teeth. "I was right when I told them not to trust you. That you would just exploit Thomas' credulity and kindness and stay here doing nothing and not paying a cent!"

"What? Are you even real?" The blonde scoffed. "Who d'you think went to the supermarket to cook you nice meals, huh? Do you really think the fridge would just full itself alone?! You were pretty happy to have something ready to eat after work!"

"You only did that so the guys would happily forget that you just squat in!" The hispanic girl barked. "That's what you are: a shucking squatter! Playing the poor suicidal kid so they wouldn't kick you out! But now let's put it right: you're a liar and a profiteer!"

"God." Newt's eyes rolled to the sky. "You really are a shucking pain in the arse, aren't you?"

"Stop talking like us! You don't deserve it!" She snapped.

"Do you even hear yourself?! You're more stupid than a five years old brat!" The Brit replied on the same tone.

"What?!" Brenda exclaimed.

"Hey, what's going on in there?" A voice Newt knew too well asked just behind him.

As he turned around, the Brit saw Thomas and Minho at the door. And all his anger just vanished. First the medicine and now another fight with their roommate. For sure the brunette would be mad at him. And he felt a bit ashamed too now that the Asian was here too. They entered and closed the door, Thomas groaning:

"Seriously, what's wrong with you, guys? Imagine the neighbours, we could he you from - " His eyes laid on the table, his voice falling. "- the street..."

Newt was feeling sick. He wanted to disappear somewhere in a hole. Anywhere. He should say something to make Brenda and Minho think Thomas didn't know about his illness. He didn't want to get the American in trouble. The brunette didn't deserve that. Minho stepped forward and took one of the bottles of pills, before looking up to Newt. The Brit dropped instantaneously his eyes. He had imagined thousands of ways to tell him, but not this way. It was so lame.

Brenda just broke the uneasy silence, standing up, her arms still crossed as she looked straight to Thomas:

"Do you trust me now? I told you he would play you."

Thomas' face was unimpressive, just as if all his thoughts had vanished from his head. His eyes left the table and met Brenda's as she frowned, visibly vexed:

"Or does your lack of reaction mean that you already knew?"

"Bren'." Minho said in a warning tone Newt couldn't quite analyse, his brain out of work.

"Don't you "Bren'" me, Minho!" The girl cut in. "He knew! They lied to us! How could you, Tom? We deserved to know at least what you were taking into our flat!"

Newt bit his bottom lip. Who the hell did that girl think she was? She talked of him like a plague or a lost hound full a flea. He wanted to counter but as the Asian looked at him, he felt the anger vanishing again: Minho had been here for him, even not knowing him at all. He had talked to him when he was down, offering him his own life philosophy. Not judging him even once. And Newt had betrayed that. He dropped his eyes again. And jumped at the thundering bang.

It took him a few seconds to understand that the deafening sound was in fact Thomas' fist against the closed door behind him. The brunette had risen his arm almost horizontally and had hit the door so hard it must have hurt. Newt's heart stopped as he saw Thomas' face: his features were steel hard, his eyes darting an assassin glare. Never had he imagined such furious anger on the American's expression. And a cold shudder embraced the Brit as he knew it for certain: the shit had finally hit the fan.

A strange silence floated. The kind of silence you could have just before the worst tempest. Newt didn't dare move an inch, but he could bet that Brenda was just like him. Like deers in the lights. It was as if there was an imminent danger coming... Even if it was just Thomas. The Brit felt as defenceless as a kitten. He shivered when the brunette's voice rose, low and angry:

"Brenda... Did you just went into my room to rummage into Newt's things?" He slowly lowered his fist, letting his arm fall back against his body.

"Well. I..." The girl replied, trying to keep her ground as she frowned. "Yes, I did! But I visibly had good reasons to do tha-"

"Then I think you should pack yours. Now." Thomas cut her coldly.

Newt's eyes widened, just like Brenda's, in front of such behaviour from the American boy. This coldness was so unusual. It was so wrong into the Brit's mind he didn't know how to react. Had Thomas just said that Brenda should go? Like leave? Brenda scoffed, incredulous:

"You can't be serious..."

"Try me." Thomas almost spat, stepping forward. "Do you know why the flat is on my name?"

"Tom, this is ridiculous! I -" The girl tried again.

"Because it's MY flat to begin with. And I won't have any rat rummaging through anyone else's belongings." The brunette greeted between his teeth.

"Thomas!" Newt intervened, grabbing his friend's arm, feeling his hands wet into his gloves. "It's okay. There's no reason for that, okay? I'm gonna go. I'll take my things and it will be like I've never been there. I prom- "

The arm violently got out of his hands, as if burnt. And suddenly those thundering eyes darted to him. It was as if all happiness had disappeared from the world into Newt's brain, leaving only fear and hurt. It looked like it was the last straw.

"DON'T YOU EVEN DARE TO THINK ABOUT LEAVING, DO YOU HEAR ME?! YOU'RE NOT! AND YOU!" He turned back towards Brenda, making her jump. "I WANT YOU SHUCKING GONE BEFORE THE END OF THE WEEK!!"

"IS THAT SO?!" The Spanish girl cried in return, too proud to stay silent, her eyes watering. "OR WHAT?! WHAT?!"

"I'LL THROW EVERYTHING BY THE WINDOW AND YOU ALONG!" Thomas exploded, screaming louder than he had ever screamed. "SO YOU BETTER BE OUT! AND DON'T EVEN DARE CROSS MY PATH UNTIL THEN!"

"FINE!" Brenda barked back, tears running freely on her cheeks.

Thomas stormed into the corridor, pushing the Brit in the way, and slammed the door of his room so hard it echoed in the entire flat, windows and walls trembling. Newt felt as if it had cut his breath, or maybe was it just him who had forgotten how to breathe. Brenda had balled her hands into fists, her face ravaged by tears, anger and sadness battling in her eyes. But it was definitely anger when she looked at the blonde. She stepped towards him but was soon stopped by Minho:

"Stop it. It's been enough."

"You didn't say anything." There was clearly an accusation in the girl's voice.

"I told you to let it go. You wouldn't listen." The Asian simply said, not taking offense.

"Of course. Everything for Thomas: if he told you to jump from that window, you would." Brenda spat.

She gave Newt a furious look and violently swept all the medicine from the table with her arm, sending everything to the ground in a tremendous noise before leaving to her room and locking herself in. Newt sighed, feeling suddenly incredibly tired. He looked at the pills on the ground. Thankfully, the little bottles were in plastic and not in glass... His eyes went back to Minho who was staring at him. The Brit felt so bad. He bit his bottom lip and murmured:

"I'm sorry..."

He kneeled down and began to pick up the pills. One of the bottles had burst open on the kitchen floor and Newt felt like it was an ironic image of his life, or more like an image of his friends' lifes after they met him. He felt the Asian's presence in his back and whispered:

"Minho... I-"

"Stop whining, will you?" The Korean sighed and appeared at his side, kneeling down to help him gathering all the pills. "I had enough drama for tonight."

"Okay..." The Brit nodded slowly, understanding: his friend, if he still was, must be pretty angry even if not showing it. Perhaps the guy didn't want to talk to him anymore.

"What do you want to eat tonight?" Minho said instead, out of nowhere.

"What?" Newt looked at him as if he had now grown a second head.

"I said..." The Asian spoke slowly as if talking to some very slow man. "What... Do you... Want... To eat... To-"

"I got it!" The Brit cut him, annoyed.

"So why do you act like you didn't, your Highness?" His interlocutor smirked.

And it was all he needed: the little nickname, even full of sarcasm, was like a gentle pat on the shoulder. Minho wasn't angry. Newt looked up at him and slightly dared a thankful smile. They kept picking up the pills as the Brit replied:

"Slinthead. I want to eat a kebab."

"Nope." The Korean shook his head. "No more junk food for you."

"What?" The Brit rose an eyebrow.

"Did Thomas turn you deaf? Well, he did scream pretty loud." Minho smirked before looking seriously to his friend. "You can't just eat shit and get better. You have to take care of yourself. Eat healthy. And come to the gym with me."

"Min'... The gym? I don't know..." The blonde mumbled.

"It's not like you've got the choice." The Asian smiled like a cat who got the cream. "After all, you didn't tell me anything until I learnt it that way. The only way for me to forgive you is you coming to the gym with me."

"I'm sorry..." Newt almost whined.

"Hey. I was just kidding." Minho pushed him slightly with his elbow. "But you need to keep up physically. So come with me. I'll help you with that part."

The Brit felt his eyes burning. He would cry soon. Minho was there. He was still there. Despite everything. Newt couldn't have wish for a better friend. He felt a tear escape and run down his cheek, and looked away, not wishing for the Asian to see it. He inhaled profoundly and wiped the tear away discreetly before murmuring:

"I'm positive." He stopped collecting the pills and kept speaking low. "But it's because I'm gay my stepfather threw me out. He doesn't know. Neither does my mother. But... I almost told my sister. She knows I'm sick, she just doesn't know what it is... And the support group is for my illness."

"Man..." Minho patted his shoulder with a false dramatic tone. "I almost want to let you eat that kebab."

Newt burst out laughing and hit his friend in the shoulder before getting the last pills and standing up. He shook his head but deep inside, he was happy that the Korean kept joking around him. It was reassuring. Minho put all the pills in a paper bag he found in the kitchen and gave it to his friend:

"So I guess we must find some late-closing store to get something healthy to eat."

"Guess you're right." The blonde shrugged and looked towards Thomas' door. "Maybe I should speak to him..."

"Oh, let him be." Minho gestured as if swapping the idea with his hand. "He'll come around when he will feel shitty enough for having screamed."

"You think?" The Brit asked, unsure.

"Yeah. If he's still moody when we come back, you sleep in my room. Come on."

Newt wasn't sure he liked the idea but staying in front of Thomas' door certainly wasn't the idea of the century. He nodded and followed Minho, both of them still having their coats on. The Asian spoke as if nothing had happened and the blonde didn't know if he should be relieved or not: of course he was happy that his roommate kept talking to him, but wasn't he at least a bit annoyed that Newt had kept the truth from him? That Brenda was being thrown out of the flat? They walked as the night was darkening everything around, the fresh air coming to bit them softly and yet viciously as they passed a few blocks.

Minho lead him to a small restaurant in an alley, definitely not the touristic style. But when they got inside, a fabulous smell came to the Brit's nose and carved a hole in his stomach: anxiousness leaving a strong hunger. Behind the counter stood a small woman, she was visibly Asian, her age a mystery but apparently pretty old. She smiled when seeing Minho and she talked in a language Newt couldn't understand, his roommate answering easily on the same happy tone. The blonde always thought it was impressive to hear someone speaking in a language he had no idea of. Minho gestured for him to follow him and they sat in one of the corner of the room, far away from the door.

"Were you speaking in korean?"

"No." His friend laughed. "That was mandarin."

"Sorry." Newt smiled sheepishly. "I assumed..."

"It's okay, don't worry." The Korean shrugged. "Hua was one of my mother's best friends. She knows me since I'm a kid. She's a great cook. I told her you can't eat fat. She'll prepare something."

The Brit stayed silent. He hadn't miss the past tense and didn't know if he should react to it. Minho was staring at him and a sly smile pulled on his lips, the shit-eating kind of smile, which made Newt ask:

"What?"

"You're just very funny. You're wondering why I said "was", aren't you?"

"... Slinthead..." His friend mumbled, not denying.

"My mother disappeared. I made her life a living hell and one day, she wasn't there anymore. I don't even know if she's still alive." The Korean murmured, his smile still there but the sadness was obvious on his face.

"God... I'm sorry." Newt whispered, shocked.

"Don't be. Or at least not for me." Minho joylessly snorted. "I was really a stupid brat. Cops have been more often at our door than I care to admit. She literally worked to pay for my stupidities and my debts. I stole, broke, vandalised... I was angry against everything and everyone. I was reckless and many times my mother paid heavy hospital tuitions because I had gotten into a fight."

The blonde was dumbfounded. Was all this even real? Minho? This guy he had now known for a month and who looked like the incarnation of calm ? It all sounded so unrealistic. It was like the Asian would burst out laughing at any moment and tell him it was all a joke... But the helplessness in his eyes was real. Minho smiled sadly at him and looked away:

"And now I keep wondering if she hid to commit suicide... Somehow I wish she just decided enough was enough and left for another city or country to never have to see me again... But I know I only wish it because the other way, it's too heavy to bare. I'll be a coward to the end." His eyes turned back to Newt. "So you see, my Queen, I'll never judge you for anything. Especially not for your secrecy. We all have our secrets and no one can blame us to keep them to ourselves."

"But you told me." The blonde murmured.

"Because you needed to hear it." The Asian shrugged.

"Still counting stupid stories?" The old woman suddenly appeared beside them with a tray on which were two steaming plates. She had a strong accent and seemed bemused. "Do not listen, boy."

"His name is Newt, Hua." Minho smiled. "And I'm not counting stupid stories."

"Noot?" Hua visibly struggled with the blonde's name, making Minho laugh his ass off, and decided to leave it aside. "Funny name. But yes, you say stupid stories, Minho. Only your idea."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Newt apologised.

"His mom. She go with a man. She go far away. Not dead. Not you, stupid kid." She added, looking at the son of the woman she was talking about.

"She left because of me, Hua. And we know nothing about any man." The Korean sighed.

"I do know. Woman do not leave child. No." Hua said, putting the plates on the table.

She seemed convinced, but Minho visibly wasn't. He waited for her to leave them before looking back at his friend and smiled:

"She has no news from my mother, so she just fantasizes a man to explain it. Sorry if she disturbed you." The Asian mumbled.

"No, it's okay." The Brit shook his head and smiled. "She seems to love you though."

"Well... She beat me more than once when I was a shucking brat. Totally deserved." Minho laughed. "But yeah. She's very nice to me."

Feeling like this conversation was over, Newt didn't insist on the matter, preferring to eat. The dish was still very hot and he needed a few second to appreciate it. It was a base of overcooked vegetables and very thin pieces of beef. It was very good and for sure Hua knew how to prepare good dishes. The silence was stretching on and the blonde felt like Minho and him were a bit closer than before, he felt more at ease. He asked:

"How come you decided to be actor?"

"Well, I didn't felt like working in an office." The Korean shrugged. "When I was doing some probation work, I found a flyer about a school. To become stunt artist."

"I totally picture you in that." Newt smiled before hastily adding. "I mean, being a stunt artist! Not the probation work."

Minho laughed at that and continued. He told him how he had begun to go but had to stop a few months later because the school was expensive. But the few months there had shown him many facets of this world, including acting. And he had loved it. So he did small jobs here and there during two years to earn money. He didn't had enough for all the years in acting school but he went to the bank for the rest. He had met Thomas during his third year:

"I was still a bit wild, not wanting to be disturbed, and you know what a slinthead he can be." Minho laughed , Newt only could nod at that. "He was so present I thought he was into me for a moment. But then I realized it was just his normal behaviour. Always wanting to help. I remember when he asked me if I wanted to be his roommate: I told him he didn't know me or what I was capable of. Playing wild and stubborn, you know."

"And what did he say?" The Brit asked, bemused.

"He looked at me as if it was so obvious I must have been stupid not to get it and said very seriously: "well, I don't need to, I just like you"."

Newt burst out laughing so hard his stomach hurt. It was just Thomas, right? Minho laughed too, remembering it. At that time, without knowing it himself, Minho was in affective distress, and somehow, Thomas' kindness had "saved" him. When the Asian said it out loud, Newt smiled slightly, understanding it very well.

"So yeah... When Bren' says I'd do anything for Thomas, it's kinda true. But I'd slap his empty head of his if I think it's good for him or if he deserved."

"Don't hit too hard though. He might come back crazier than he already is." The blonde smirked.

"And you wouldn't like it, right?" Mlnho had that shit-eating grin again.

Newt groaned, rolling his eyes and preferred to change the subject, to his friend's biggest amusement. It was strange to think that Minho was now aware of his situation. The Asian didn't seem even disturbed, only insisting on Newt coming running with him and at the gym, which was kind of a torture for the Brit, actually: he wasn't really the sportive type. He had always preferred to be comfortably sat somewhere, sketching or drawing. When he mumbled it, Minho suddenly seemed to awake:

"Hey. But you paint, right?"

"I can." Newt shrugged, smirking. "Why? You're gonna tell me to draw people in the street to earn money?"

"Well, that's an idea but no, it wasn't my point. You have weird thoughts." The Asian shrugged. "No, I was thinking that maybe you could paint my room."

"Excuse me?" The blonde raised an eyebrow: it wasn't really what he had expected.

"I'd like to have kinda street-industrial style, with graffitis, by night." The Korean described. "D'you think you can do that?"

"You mean an old stone wall with graffiti?" Newt asked.

"Yeah. Like an old factory." Minho nodded.

"I can try." The Brit agreed. "But I'll need a few days."

"Well, soon there will be an empty room. And I have to buy the paint so... You'll have plenty of time and space." His roommate replied. "And I'll pay you for that of course."

"You don't have to." The blonde murmured. "Aren't you sad that Brenda's leaving? Thought she was your friend."

"First of all: I'll pay you, 'cuz it's gonna be long and tiring." The Asian said, raising one finger and then a second. "And for the other question: yes, Brenda is my friend but I trully think that everyone must assume their acts. She knew Thomas. She screwed it up. That's it. And I'm a bit disgusted too by what she did. It's not her. Something is eating her inside and maybe it's better for her to take some distance now."

Newt didn't replied to that. It was strange and yet very logical. Looking at his friend, he wondered how the Korean could be this wise guy and had been the stupid brat he mentioned at the same time... It was difficult to picture Minho being a thoughtless violent kid. They finished their meal and the Korean insisted on them eating fruits as dessert. Hua refused any kind of payment and shooed them out when Minho tried to insist. The night was cold and neither of them objected into coming back jogging to the flat. There was no one in the street and the boys could only hear their footsteps, and their laughs as Minho commented something about Newt running as fast as his old grandmother. The blonde tried to kick him but without succeeding and soon enough, they were in front of the building. The Brit bent in two, breathing heavily and trying to calm down his rumbling heart, his body burning like lava and his perspiration like a river. Minho was a little short-winded and his skin only shining slightly. He looked at his friend with concern and murmured:

"No more cig for you either."

Newt grumbled but knew his roommate told the truth. He really was in bad shape. They stayed ten minutes or so outside so the Brit could calm down and have a normal breathing again. The Korean didn't say much but his eyes spoke volumes: he was concerned about his friend's health and was looking forward beginning the sport with him soon.

They climbed up the stairs to their flat and entered in a dead silent zone. Apparently, Thomas and Brenda had stayed in their rooms since nothing had moved in the flat. Newt grabbed his pills and wished Minho a good night, being pretty tired after such a day. He went to the end of the corridor and stopped at the door: should he ask for permission to come in? Or should he just go since it was his room too? Would Thomas want to see him after all this? Yelling at Brenda certainly hadn't been pleasant... He hesitated and decided to knock but not to wait for permission:

"Tommy? I'm coming in."

The room was lit by the small bedside lamp. Thomas was lying under his covers head to toe. The room was in a disastrous state: visibly the brunette had thrown all his things to the ground out of anger. Newt decided to close the door behind him and to get closer, watching out not to step on anything. Thomas didn't move as he got closer: perhaps the American had fallen asleep after releasing his nerves after the confrontation ? The blonde looked around, wondering how he could tidy this in order to sleep on his air mattress without making too much noise, and jumped as his roommate turned around in the bed, staring at him.

"Tommy..." Newt murmured. "Did I wake you up?"

"No. Wasn't sleeping." The brunette answered curtly.

"Do you... Do you want me to leave you alone for tonight? I can go sleep in Minho's room."The Brit offered.

"Come here." Was the response he got.

Not really knowing what to expect, the blonde nodded and approached the bed, sitting on the edge of it. Thomas kept staring at him, his face blank. He suddenly straightened up into a sitting position and throw the covers at the Brit. Surprised, Newt's first reflex was to present his back and received the covers on it, almost like a coat.

"Tommy? What the-"

"Stay."

The blonde froze as he felt the brunette embracing him tightly through the cover. He could see his arms around his stomach. Thomas' head landed on his shoulder, the cover not long enough to prevent his breath from brushing against the Brit's collarbone, making him shiver. Wrapped like this, it was like a warm cocoon and Newt relaxed slightly, thankful that their skin didn't touch. Thomas' voice came low and filled with sadness:

"Will you stay?"

"What...?" The blonde asked, not sure of what he'd heard.

"Will you stay? Even after this? After all that? Will you stay?"

Newt hadn't really expected this question from his roommate. Neither had he thought that he would feel so safe and sound into those arms, wanting this embrace to never end. He slightly pressed his head against Thomas', the covers preventing him to see his face. But he murmured nonetheless:

"Will you have me? Do you want me to stay?"

"I want you to want to stay." The brunette replied, pulling him a little tighter against him.

Newt's heart was filled with a warm and delicious sensation that made him close his eyes, his hand gently patting his roommate's arm through the covers as a small smiled pulled on his lips.

"I want to."

“Good that.” There was a smile in Thomas’ voice.

 

**_To be continued..._ **


	13. Father and son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas got his part. He feels excited about it and thinks it is a good opportunity to go and see his father. There's something more he wants to tell. But never thought it would end up this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you for waiting so much. Never thought I would be so long, sorry! Hope you'll enjoy it.

The beginning of the afternoon was a bit fresh but still getting warmer. Thomas exhaled deeply as he got in the street. He had the part. He was going to be one of the main characters of a series. His heart was running wildly in his chest. He had said he didn’t really care, but he had been the only one he had fooled: he was now so excited he couldn’t quite breathe normally, as if he had just passed a very physical trial. He felt happiness, delight, exaltation, fear… Everything was crashing in him, letting him a bit light headed. He couldn’t wait to tell his roommates and friends, but there was someone else he wanted to tell first. Fishing his phone in his pocket, he turned it on and went hastily through his contacts. It rang twice before his interlocutor picked it up:

_“Eddison speaking.”_

“Hi dad.” Thomas smiled. “You still don’t look who’s calling you.”

 _“Oh, son! Well it’s been a while. What are you up to?”_ The man replied, a smile in his voice too.

“Hm, many things… Can I come around? You’ll still be home?” The brunette asked.

_“Sure. I don’t work today. You can come whenever you want.”_

“I’m coming then. I’ll be there in twenty minutes or so.”

He said bye and was on his way. It was true that he didn’t call or go often see his father since he was working and living on his own. He made a note to himself to go more often: they only had each other as a family. His father had never been the same after his mother’s death, Thomas neither to be honest. They had both fought their demons even if not together. Perhaps should he have been more present for his dad. But he had his own grief to live. He wasn’t even sure he had done it properly or if was even over.

His steps found their way without needing his focus and soon enough, he was in front his father’s home: it was a seven floors building, all in visible bricks and grey cement. Alec Eddison lived on the fifth floor and, as always, the elevator wasn’t working, tearing a groan from the young actor. This thing always hated him: it always had worked for his mother ! He smiled sadly at the thought and shook his head before heading up. The steel staircase looked rather old but it was well taken care of. At least better than the elevator. He liked the steel smell present in the staircase: this scent always smelt a bit like home. He arrived in front of an old red secured door and knocked. Not that he didn’t had the keys but he presumed his father would like to have him properly.

Alec opened the door. His fair eyes still as penetrating as in his memory. The man looked a little less like a military, or a tired one. He had once been but his biggest war was probably the loss of his wife. He smiled nonetheless at Thomas’ sight.

“Look at you. Come here.”

Thomas certainly complied and smiled in the bear hug, hugging him back. They stayed a few seconds like that before Alec let go of his son and invited him inside. Nothing had changed to Thomas’ lack of surprise: all the photos were still at the same places as before, the furnitures, the bar, the bottles… The brunette felt a bit uneasy: it was still like his mother would suddenly appear from another room and smile to him. It was a strange thing to feel, this mix of tenderness and sadness…

“You wanna drink something, kiddo?” His father asked, already getting two glasses in the kitchen.

“What do you have?”

His question took a bit his father out of guard: he visibly expected his son to take a Coke, as always since he was a kid. But this time, beer it would be: Thomas didn’t feel like staying absolutely sober in this place, not with this ghostly presence everywhere. Not that it was oppressive, but he felt uneasy nonetheless inside those walls without his mother truly there. And somehow he supposed she wouldn’t mind him drinking beer on the day he got a new job. His eyes wandered around in this place he knew by heart without living in it, listening to his father rummaging in the kitchen.

“I didn’t know you drinked.”

“Well, I kinda grew up those last few years.” Thomas groaned.

His eyes found one of his mother’s pictures framed. She was looking at him, smiling. She always smiled. His heart clenched a little at that souvenir of her. He still missed her a lot, he always would. Alec Eddison’s footsteps caught back his attention and the young actor smiled to his father when the man put the drink on the table and sat across with a grunt. They clinked their bottles and drank a sip before his father asked:

“So? What have you been up to? What do you do for living?”

“I’m still an actor.” Thomas smirked.

“Oh yeah?” His dad laughed slightly. “Always wondered… Thought you might end up working at McDonald’s or something like that.”

“Thanks for the trust.” The brunette grumbled. “And it’s offensive to say that for those who work there.”

“Well. Not my fault if it’s not a real job.” The man shrugged. “Just like yours.”

Thomas stiffened. He didn’t quite like what he heard. His father seemed much more bitter than before. Was it because he had let him on his own for too long? A little guilt mixed with the small anger that rose in him and he inhaled profoundly before murmuring:

“It is. They attend people, bear those who are jerks and serve them food. It is much more difficult than what you seem to think. And the money they get pay their bills. So it is a real job.”

“You know what I mean.” Alec sighed. “I was worried, that’s all. I’m your father.”

“I know.”

Thomas bit his tongue to not add anything else just on the steam and gulped down a sip of beer. God, he hadn’t imagined it like this. But maybe his father was just being very clumsy to tell him he cared and was really worried. He hadn’t give a lot of news technically. So it was a bit of his fault too… His eyes stopped on the smiling face of his mother again and he breathed slowly to calm down. He had came to deliver a good news and to share the moment… He bit his bottom lip and took another sip before announcing:

“I got a great offer.”

“Oh? What’s that?” His father asked.

“I’ll play in a series. Got the job this morning.” Thomas smiled.

“A series?” Alec repeated, surprised.

“Yes. One of the main roles.” The young actor said proudly.

“That’s great, son!” His father smiled and clinked their bottles together. “Cheers to that! And what is it about?”

“Oh, I’ll be some kind of teenage boy. A high schooler.” Thomas began to explain, remembering what they had told him. “My best friend is transformed into a werewolf and I help him through it with all my knowledge. I’m supposed to be all nerdy and smart.”

“Sounds weird.” Alec laughed slightly.

“It’s a young adults series.” The brunette nodded. “But if it works, it can open quite a few doors for my career.”

“If you say so. I’ll be convinced when I see it.” The older man shrugged before taking another sip of his beverage. “But I am happy for you.”

He didn’t look that much. Thomas bit his bottom lip not to let out any comment and prefered to drink a bit. His father was definitely less joyful since his mother’s death. And he couldn’t blame him: technically, his father has known his mother much longer than he had, they had live through challenges together and all… But he missed his father. Or at least the person he had once been. Something in his head blamed him for being insensitive and egoistic. He had to try again and establish some sort of new bound. Refresh a bit their relationship. After all, he had come for another reason.

“Hey dad.” He began.

“Hm?”

“I came to tell you something else.” The brunette murmured.

“Oh? And what’s that?” The man wondered, raising an eyebrow.

“I think I’m in love.”

The sentence stayed in the air between them. Sure it wasn’t exactly the way he planned on telling it, plus it was a bit weird to admit it out loud but he felt also relieved to finally say it. His eyes went up to his father and Alec slyly smiled at that and rose his drink to clash it with his son’s:

“A nice news. What’s her name?”

“Er… Actually, it’s a guy, dad.” Thomas blurted out. “His name is Newt.”

“A boy…?” His elder repeated, surprised. “Didn’t know you were into that.”

“Well, I never felt particularly more into girls or guys.” The brunette murmured.

His father’s reaction was rather good. Especially since he hadn’t expected this conversation to turn out like this. Alec seemed thoughtful, frowning slightly, and looked up to his son, trying to look relaxed even if he seemed a bit taken aback:

“He’s acting too? Like he’s one of your coworkers?”

“No. He gas nothing to do with my job.” Thomas shook his head and then smiled slightly. “Well… I mean he doesn’t work with me. But I met him on a set.”

“How’s that?” Eddison father was lost.

Should he tell him? It wasn’t really his story to tell… But at the same time, he hadn’t talk with his father in a while. It was part of his own life too… And it wasn’t like his father was going to see Newt anytime soon: they weren’t this kind of super linked family. It was rather good if they see each other once in a few months. He pinched his lips, hesitating, before murmuring:

“I was working with Minho and the others near the abandoned church. We went inside to kill the time. And I found him. On the ground. At the foot of an angel statue. I first thought he was a junkie but then I realised he was just unconscious. We called an ambulance and as soon as he got out, he came live with us.”

“What?” The man raised an eyebrow. “How could that even happen? I mean, you didn’t know him, right?”

“No.” The brunette shook his head. “We just took him in because he had nowhere to go.”

“My… And your roommates just agreed?” His father asked. “You guys amaze me. Just like that, a stranger… How come he has nowhere to go?”

“His family had kicked him out for being gay.” Thomas said.

“Oh…” Alec nodded, taking a sip on his beer. “Well, that happens…”

Thomas slightly flinched, bothered by the casualty in his father’s words. As if it wasn’t a big deal to throw away your child because of who he was. He knew his father and him hadn’t always think the same way but just thinking the man could just shrug off something like that made him angry. But not that burst of anger he had with Brenda, no it was a slow incredulous anger that crept inside of him, scratching viciously the borders of his patience. He should just ignore it. He was normally good at it. But the words were out before he could even think them:

“Yeah. People cutting their veins because of it also happens.”

There was a silence and Alec eyed his son, his thoughts visibly jumping to conclusions with those words. He pinched his lips:

“Well, I’m sorry for this boy you think you love. It is sad. But you should be careful. Fragile people often become burdens.”

It was like a punch. Fragile people? He couldn’t be serious, right? Thomas stared at his dad with wide eyes, his mind blank. His nails scratched painfully the table as he clinched his hand into a fist and let out:

“You mean weak, don’t you? He’s not. Newt can be a lot of things but weak is not one of them.”

“Tom…” The man groaned.

“He’s positive, dad.” The actor blurted out without being able to stop himself. “And he doesn’t give up. He tripped and he’s now standing up. He’s the bravest person I know. So don’t you despise him. Ever.”

His father was staring at him, his eyebrows frowned so deeply. He opened his mouth but no sound came out, and sighed deeply. He shook his head and murmured:

“Why do you have to keep ruining your life?”

Thomas’ eyes widened so much he felt like his eyeballs might fall out. Ruining his life? Those words echoed in the emptiness of his mind. Dumbfound wasn’t strong enough to describe how he was. He could just stare at that man he had known all his life as if he was a perfect stranger. Alec passed his hand on his face and kept mumbling something about a proper job, living in an apartment alone and “now this”. Thomas couldn’t say how long he stayed silent, nor if the man in front of him could read the anger in his eyes, but it was just like the fight with Brenda: his voice came out calmer than death and colder than winter.

“You know nothing.”

“What?” At Alec’s tone, the brunette knew he was crossing a line, but surprisingly he didn’t care.

“Mum would be ashamed of you.” He said flatly.

“Shut up! How do you dare talk about her like that!?” The man slammed his hand on the table, standing up, his face getting redder every passing second. “You know damn well what a dead end you're walking in! He’s not gonna live long, you know!”

Thomas wondered how his teeth didn’t shatter for how hard he clenched them. He took a sip of his drink, taking only a few seconds before his thoughts came out in a steady sentence:

“It means nothing. Mum was fine and died young. You don’t kno-”

His words were cut off by the furious punch of his elder. All his face’s side hurt, a painful burning sensation radiating from his right cheek. There was also this metallic taste. He must have bitten himself in the process. Well, maybe he had deserve this one, but he wouldn’t take it back even if he could. Because he felt so damn right. He looked up to this man that was only the shadow of the father he had once knew. All he saw now was a poor being, eaten up by grief, loss, aging prematurely… And angry like a wild hurt animal.

Alec’s eyes were like two flames full of anger. Maybe hater. Thomas didn’t know. He was in this curious state in which he couldn’t feel nothing anymore. Just a cold and clear reality. It was always the last stage of his anger: a cold indifference.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” Alec growled, seeming on the edge of losing it.

Thomas stared for a second, feeling only his heart pulsing in his wounded cheek. And then got up. There was nothing more to say. He walked in silence to the door and, without a single look back, he let the door shut on what had been a huge part of himself. His past. He might never come back in this place full of memories… Standing in the staircase, alone, it was just like in the apartment: like a presence.

“I’m sorry…” He murmured to the deafening silence.

And with those words, he got down the stairs, his thoughts swirling in his head. He would probably found Newt in his flat. The blonde would look at him and smile, asking about his day. Minho might be there too, probably sitting at the kitchen table since he would have been talking with the Brit while he cooked… And it would feel like home.

His steps stopped just at the front door, his hand ready to open it, stopping his movement in the air. It was strange, knowing there was nothing and yet feeling like his mother was there, standing just behind him. He hesitated and closed his eyes, murmuring softly:

“You would have liked him.”

And with that, he got out. The city was buzzing like everyday, but the brunette felt a bit left out: even if he was sure he was right, he realized he had just lost two important people in his life. Brenda and his dad. But he was right, wasn’t he? He walked, fists in his pockets, lost in his thoughts. What would his mother say if she was still there? Not that he was ruining his life, for sure. But would she say something about Newt being ill? That he shouldn’t get attached?

A few cold drops of rain fell on him, making him look to the grey darkening sky. The rain was going to get heavier. It remembered him that his mother used to take him in her arms when there was thunder and he was afraid. She had always been like this: protective, tender… She probably would have asked him if he felt happy with Newt around. And he would have answered yes. He could almost picture his mother smiling gently at him and saying that if he felt happy and made the Brit happy then it was all it mattered.

The rest of the trip to his flat was like a blur, his mind lost in his memories with his parents. It all felt so simple when she was still there, his father was a different man then and he was probably different too. Was he getting too egoistic? Self-centered? He didn’t know. When he stopped in front of his door, he could hear music. A bit loud perhaps but it wasn’t even late. He opened the door and smiled: the blonde was in the kitchen, the music playing loud from the stereo, and he was singing along as he was preparing what looked like cookies. He was wearing one of Thomas’ sweaters, since he didn’t have many clothes, and the overalls the brunette usually wore for home improvements. Everything looked a bit too big on him, but Thomas didn’t mind: in fact, he felt this utterly too sweet happy feeling to see the Brit in his clothes. God, he was fucked.

“Oh, hey!” Newt smiled, putting everything down to come closer. “I’m making some cookies. Minho called saying he wanted some. He shouldn’t be long either.”

The American smiled slightly, nodding, and before he really noticed, he walked one step closer and leant his forehead against the Brit’s shoulder. Newt tensed, but Thomas made sure their skin didn’t touch. He knew the blonde was uneasy with direct touching. He felt him slightly relax as concern came into his voice:

“Tommy? Are you alright?”

“Yeah… Just tired…” He murmured. “Can we just stay like this for a minute?”

Newt didn’t answer but complied, staying still. His brown eyes kept trying to see his friend. Something was wrong: he looked so down… He could feel the warmness of the touch on his shoulder through the sweater. It was pleasant. Hesitantly, he reached his hands behind the brunette’s back and pulled on his sleeves to hide his hands before gently hug him. He’d like to press his cheek against his head but didn’t allow himself to, murmuring instead:

“Hey… I can make pancakes if you want… They are great when you’re down.”

“Pancakes would be great.” Thomas chuckled.

“Minho will love this diner. Pancakes and cookies.” Newt laughed softly.

“Did someone mention pancakes and cookies?” The voice of the Asian came from behind the brunette.

Thomas straightened and looked at his roommate: the Korean was trying hard not to make any smart ass comment. He was. But as usually, he failed and his shit-eating grin didn’t smooth anything:

“Did I interrupt something, lovebirds?”

“No. Nothing.” Newt blushed and turned heals to go back to his preparation.

Thomas already missed the warmness of the hug and gave a deadly stare at his friend. Minho simply smiled back and walked in direction of his room. As he pushed the door, his eyes opened widely as he embraced the empty room:

“Huh, can someone tell me where my stuff is?”

“Oh, I put everything in Brenda’s room.” Newt answered. “To paint your walls, you know.”

“Your room.” Thomas said flatly, almost guarded. “It’s your room now, she’s gone.”

The Brit stayed a bit dumbfounded at those words but didn’t get the time to elaborate as Minho came back in the kitchen. He stared at Newt in disbelief:

“You moved everything on your own?”

“Well, yes. You two were out. Took me three hours and a half…” The blonde shrugged.

“Man, you’re insane.” The Asian shook his head.

The boy simply chuckled. Thomas smiled slightly and decided to put his things in his room in order to help Newt with the cooking. The three of them kept discussing, laughing and joking while preparing their meal. It was a nice and warm atmosphere, just like he had thought earlier: it felt like home. They installed themselves around the table and ate.

“So aside from Minho’s room, what have you done today?” Thomas asked.

“I went to my appointment at the hospital.” Newt shrugged. “Dr. Mary told me that I have to see a psychologist. ‘cuz I tried to kill myself… And the other stuff.”

Both his roommates nodded. Not surprised at all. Thomas was even surprised that Newt didn’t had an appointment before but he suspected that they had too many patients already. Minho looked at the blonde:

“So, when is your appointment?”

“Oh I had one today already.” The Brit assured.

“And? What’s it like?” Thomas asked.

“Not much.” Newt shrugged. “I guess Dr. Lana was alright. But I didn’t say much. It was a bit unreal to go in this room and her telling me to talk.”

“Just talk?” The Korean raised an eyebrow.

“That’s what psychologist do.” The brunette nodded. “Mine was the same, saying to talk and say whatever came to my mind.”

“You went to a psychologist?” The Brit looked at him, surprised.

“After my mom’s death, yes.” Thomas said. “Actually I didn’t stop long ago.”

“Is it really useful?” Newt asked, creasing his nose. “I really don’t know what to say to her.”

“You have to open up to her.” The brunette admitted. “Otherwise it won’t be any help.”

“How can I open up to someone I don’t know?” The blonde mumbled. “It’s weird.”

“It will click eventually. Or maybe you’ll have to change: the psychologist has to fit you.”

Newt stared at Thomas, visibly unconvinced but their attention was soon on the ruckus Minho made in his attempt to steal a raw cookie, earning a chastening Brit. Thomas smiled at the scene, crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder against the kitchen’s door frame. Minho trying to move Newt with failed puppy eyes was a sight to see... There was nowhere else he would like to be at this moment. He was sure of it. This warm feeling couldn’t be wrong.

**_To be continued..._ **


	14. Dr Lana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt doesn't see the point going to the psychologist while Minho has his own worries.

It had been ten long minutes already. Newt was staring at the psychologist. Dr Lana was sitting in the armchair in front of him, staring back in a perfect silence. She even might be just a statue that he wouldn’t be surprised at all. She was a short woman, square shoulders, who looked more like a military than a doctor. The blonde wondered what he was supposed to do or say: he had no idea really. He must have pulled a face because Dr Lana smiled at him and asked:

“What are you thinking about?”

“That all this is super weird.” Newt mumbled, sinking a bit more in the armchair.

He had instantaneously refused to lay on the sofa. It was definitely too cliché and he didn’t feel like it at all. Did people really lay down, relax, and tell all their life at her? He couldn’t quite believe it. But Dr Lana didn’t seem to find him strange or inappropriate. She just smiled again and murmured:

“What do you mean?”

“This. You and I staring at each other in silence.” The Brit shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“How’s that?” She pushed a little.

“It’s not like I want to talk about my life with a perfect stranger.” Newt replied.

“You are very distrustful, aren’t you?” She asked again.

“Am I?” He groaned. “Who, being totally sane, would just blindly trust some perfect stranger?”

The woman didn’t look like she would take it personally, simply smiling at him. He couldn’t be the first one to tell her that, right? He just sighed and shook his head: it didn’t make sense at all, he couldn’t open up just like that. It was a total waste of time. 

“We are here to work together, Newt, because you had a very difficult time. Wanting to take your own life isn’t a detail, you know.” She said patiently. “So if you have any question or anything you want to say, anything that goes through your mind, just go ahead. I’m not here to judge you. We are here to understand.”

“Right…” The blond pinched his lips. 

He couldn’t imagine one of this sessions being any different than this one: awkward, useless. He looked by the window, wishing he could just go. He had done a stupid thing, feeling totally hopeless and alone. Abandoned. But he wasn’t anymore. He had friends, roommates. They had taken him in and their everyday life was pretty good. Why would he want to think again about what he had done? Seriously, couldn’t just give him a break? 

“Dr Mary told me you stopped going to the group sessions.” The psychologist tried then. “Why’s that?”

“Just as useless than this.” Newt shrugged. “Except they were stupid enough to judge me out loud.”

“Judge you?” Dr Lana asked.

“Yeah… Just like you do.” The Brit murmured, staring at her, arms crossed now. 

“I don’t judge you.” She blinked.

“Yes, you do. It’s human. Our brain is programmed like this.” Newt stated before taking a caricatural voice. “Oh, dear, you look tired today, are you sick? Did someone ditch you? Look at this girl, she’s so skinny, I wonder if she even eat…”

Dr Lana was staring at him in silence. He simply shrugged.

“See? When you saw me, your brain noted this kind of details: lanky, pale, shadows under my eyes… You can’t stop your brain from judging. Saying so is just shucking hypocrite.” He sighed. “Now, excuse me.”

And with that, he got up and walked to the door. He had made his point, right? As his hand landed on the handle, he heard his name and turn around to look at that woman in the armchair. Even with all he had said, she kept smiling at him and reminded him that they had an appointment the week after. He raised an eyebrow and left without adding anything if not a goodbye. The corridor of the hospital was full of people, full of noise. He disliked it. He’d like to never come back. But he knew he couldn’t. Not yet. He walked through it, now used to its architecture, feeling like the Prince of the Hospital Maze. He smirked at that and walked out. Minho was sat on the edge of the walkway and frowned as he spotted him:

“Already?”

“Got fed up.” Newt groaned.

If Minho wanted to say something, he judged otherwise and got up. They were wearing sports gear and now that Newt was over with the hospital stuff, he knew the worse was coming: the Korean had come up with the idea of running back home. It was of course impossibly too far for someone like the Brit who hadn’t done any sport in a long time. But he hadn’t feel like saying no to his roommate. Minho had never let him down, not even when he had learn about him in the worst way possible. He had stayed around.

“Ready, pal?” The Asian smiled, handing him a bottle of water.

“To die? Sure.” Newt slyly smiled.

Minho laughed and began to move. He was running pretty slow so the blonde could follow, plus they had a long way ahead: no need to rush. Newt quickly felt his heart pounding furiously in his chest, his lungs fighting the effort and not really willing to follow the movement, but the blonde screwed his eyes on his friend’s back and emptied his mind. It was a strange feeling: hearing his heart beating at his temples, feeling his blood running in his veins… He felt weak, knowing that it was mostly due to his lack of sportive activity, but he couldn’t think otherwise than it was because he was sick. So when the first pain in his legs began to show up, he mentally insulted it and forced himself to keep running. If he could keep up with Minho, he could beat it. He could do it!

He jogged as his lungs screamed in defiance. He ran as his legs whined in pain. His eyes kept focused on the Korean’s back, his mind repeating again and again to keep up. Minho looked back pretty often, just to be sure that the blonde was still with him. It was true that he looked like he had already run 20 miles when they hadn’t even run 1. He was jogging so slowly for his usual rhythm that he wasn’t even perspiring right now. He tried not to let his mind wander and focus: it wasn’t exactly the moment to get lost in his thoughts and forget about Newt. No wonder that Thomas would beat him if he left the Brit behind because he wasn’t into it. So he kept checking back regularly. But even with that effort, his mind kept slipping away.

He pictured that smile he had grown fond of, that laugh he liked, those mischievous eyes he missed. They hadn’t seen each other or texted since a few days… He wonder if he should text her, but as always he decided otherwise: she probably needed time. He looked back and sighed slightly when seeing Newt looking like he was about to faint and stopped, almost bumping in the blonde. Newt was out of breath and really pale, but he hadn’t given up and it was a good start.

“Hey, we’re gonna continue by bus.” The Asian smiled slyly. “Man, you look terrible.”

“I feel terrible.” The Brit groaned, gasping for air. “We haven’t run much, have we?”

“Nope. But it’s not that bad. I stopped, you didn’t. Let’s not rush.” He gently patted the blonde’s hair and laughed as Newt looked like he was going to bite his hand.

Of course they didn’t run much, but it was just the beginning. He wasn’t there to disgust the Brit to make any effort. It was quite the opposite. They walked to the next bus stop, Newt needing all the way to breathe normally again, feeling disgustingly sweaty. He followed Minho in the bus and grumbled a thank you when the Asian gave him a ticket:

“You didn’t have to.”

“Shank, you’re not gonna make a fuss about a ticket, are you?” The Korean shuckled.

“It's just that I never take one.” Newt shrugged.

“Well for one, be legal and bear it.” Minho made his shit-eating grin.

The Brit rolled his eyes and didn’t comment. He didn’t like that Minho had to pay for him: he really needed a job. He had sent his resume to Rachel and he hoped he’d get an answer quickly so he could pay for his expenses by himself. But he would paint the Asian’s room while unemployed, to have enough time for it. He had already made a few drawings to have an idea of what it would look like… He wanted to say something about it to his friend but didn’t dare to as soon as he looked up: Minho was lost in his thoughts, as often lately. 

Newt wondered what could trouble the Asian that much and decided not to ask: his roommate had never pushed him, he shouldn’t either. Minho kept silent the entire trip in bus, only coming back to present as he felt the blonde becoming heavier against his shoulder : Newt had fallen asleep, tired by the effort and cradled by the bus vibrations. The Asian smiled and waited the last minute to wake his friend up, hurrying him out. He laughed as the blonde always needed a few minutes to totally wake up. As soon as they were in, Minho went to the shower: he had a little more than an hour to get ready before heading to work. 

In the bathroom, he checked once more his phone. No message. A long sigh escaped his lips and he put the device aside to take his shower. He wasn’t the pushing kind, not at all, but right now he was getting a little bit upset. Or restless. Or whatever it was he was feeling. He wouldn’t change a thing about what he had done, and yet he was getting worried to have zero text. He furiously scrubbed his body with the soap, not able to suppress this disagreeable feeling and yet incapable of expressing it. The hot water wouldn’t wash it away either… After all, he did care… He cut the water and got out of the bathtub, catching his phone, his finger dancing in the air as he hesitated: what should he write? After a long minute, he groaned and put the device aside, pulling a towel around his waist. 

“Seriously… Should be gay. Must be easier.” He mumbled, before remembering the two dorks he lived with. “Or not…”

He went back to his room, almost used to have all his things in boxes. He sat on his bed and stared at the screen as if it beheld the Answer. Another sigh and he put it aside to get dressed. He hadn’t had such a headache in a long time. When was even the last time he had been so upset about anything at all? He took his phone one last time and decided to call. He didn’t need to wait long, being directly sent to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s me…” he didn’t even know what to say. “Call me someday. Bye.”

He pressed the red digit. It wasn’t much. But what should he say? Ask her if she was mad at him? Well, she probably was, otherwise she would have written or called. Should he show up at hers? Not the best idea he ever had. Definitely not. He sighed again and went to the kitchen, meeting Newt there, still in sweat pants. The blonde gave him a small smile:

“Are you alright?”

The Brit must have heard him sighing again and again and again. Minho opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He wasn’t ready, not yet. So the Korean simply smiled back and nodded:

“Not almighty but it’s nothing you should worry about.”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” The blonde replied, not even asking, just stating.

“No, not really.” Minho shrugged.

“Alright. I’m gonna be in the shower at the time you go. So here is your sandwich.” Newt gave him a Tupperware.

“Thanks, honey.” The Asian smirked, earning a smack on the shoulder. “What? You’re kinda sexy housewife.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, not even bothering answering that, but the hint of a smile was on his lips, because Minho was always such a shank. The Brit gave his roommate a second lunchbox, searching for his words but the Korean smiled and murmured:

“I’ll see him today. I will give him.”

“Ok, great.” Newt replied, simply nodding.

“God, you’re so sweet I’m gonna puke.” Minho laughed. 

“Beg your pardon?” The blonde raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing, sweet pea.” The actor smirked. “You two are just making every single one of my days.”

Newt shook his head and decided it was better to go and take his damn shower. After all, he couldn’t do much for his friend, but the Asian seemed to hold on alright, whatever his problem was. As the hot water danced on his skin, he let his mind wander: maybe he should go back to the group sessions. Dr. Mary seemed slightly upset when he had told her. Maybe he wasn’t trying enough. He wondered when Thomas was going to begin his new work, and if he should ask him once more if he could come along. 

When he got out of the shower, he was alone in the flat. Minho had left for work. It was time to begin his own work now. He put on the old clothes Thomas didn’t use anymore and he went to the Asian’s room. First with a pencil, referring to the sketches he had done, he began to draw on the walls. He had never done it before but hoped it would be good. It was like opening this street art book in the library again, but this time he was the one filling the pages. He first established where the walls of the old factory were, than the line of the landscape that wouldn’t be very visible since it was supposed to be a night time scene. Wait, a night scene?

“How is he supposed to see the shucking paint on the wall then…?”

Newt stopped drawing and looked at his sketches. Should he add some electric light? Near an old abandoned factory? He wrinkled his nose and sat on the ground, thinking intensely.

 

****

 

“Hey, T.” Minho smiled when seeing her.

“Hi, Minho.” The brunette replied, happy to see him. “My, you’re on time! What happened? Some monster kicked you out of bed?”

“It’s 1:00 PM, T. I don’t sleep that much.” He groaned. “Do I?”

“You tell me.” The make-up artist laughed. “How are things going? Take a seat, I’m gonna prepare you while you read the script.”

“Good that.” The Asian sat in the chair. “You should come by some time: to meet Newt properly and to see Thomas.”

“Yeah, I didn’t quite process that he soon won’t be working with us anymore...” Teresa sighed. “Our baby is growing up.”

Minho barked out a laugh at that. It was true that they used to think that they had to take care of Thomas since he was so naive. But it was him who saved Minho in the first place, right? The Korean smiled and looked at his friend:

“So you wanna come today ? Don’t know how’s Thomas’ schedule today but he’ll be happy to see you for sure.”

“Why not. I’m not doing anything after. I could bring something. Does Newt drink alcohol?” Teresa asked.

“I don’t know to be honest. He’s taking medicine so maybe it’s better to presume he doesn’t.” The Asian murmured.

“You’re right. I’m going to buy food and soda then.” She smiled. 

Minho nodded and let his friend do her work, having the make-up session to think a bit. Teresa didn’t know about Newt’s illness. So that was what Thomas had felt: not lying but not saying all the truth because unable to. He wished Brenda could understand it one day. Because as he had said to Newt, the girl was his friend and he wished her all the good, even if he disagreed completely with how she acted. She had her reasons. It wasn’t only ignorance speaking in her case: it was for the illness, but he also knew her past with her father. He sighed, earning the full attention of his make-up artist:

“What is it?”

“Just thinking about Bren’. D’you know where she is?” The Asian asked.

“Well, she kinda stopped talking to me.” Teresa shrugged. “I guess she thinks I’m on your side, whatever the argument you had. Or she just wanna have a break. She said to the boss she was taking three weeks of holidays.”

“I see…” Minho murmured.

“Hey.” The brunette called.

“What?” The Asian looked up back at her.

“You’re not responsible. Neither is Thomas. Life happens. And sometimes we split up.” Teresa deadpanned. “But at the end, we all make choices and have to leave with their consequences.” 

“Why do you say that?” The Korean frowned.

“Because I know you.” She shrugged. “Now go. You’re ready.”

“Thanks, T.” Minho smiled and got up, already heading for the set.

“Minho?”

He turned around to look at his friend and Teresa had that grin, half mischievous and half tender. She murmured:

“I don’t know who’s that girl you’re thinking about, but you should go for it.” She laughed at the Asian’s surprised expression. “No need to be a witch to know you’re pinning about someone. And it has nothing to do with Brenda.”

Minho stayed stunned and let put an incredulous laugh. Perhaps Teresa was right. He should go for it… He should stop waiting for something to happen. As he walked to the set, he fished his phone out of his pocket and selected the contact. It rang twice before going to voicemail:

“Hey. I’m gonna see you tonight, after work. You can slap me, scream at me or beat me to death… But we’ll talk.” He smiled. “I miss your shucking voice...”   
  


**_To be continued..._ **


	15. What's wrong with you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a secret sneaks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thank you all for waiting! It's been quite a long time, this chapter was a bit difficult to write to be honest, wrote it several times between two contests. Hope you guys will like it.

Newt sighed slightly and pressed his arm against his damp forehead. He wasn’t finished, it would take a few more days of course, but he was pretty happy for now: the dark paint was on in three corners of the room. He planned on making the old factory wall on one wall and a half so on corner was reserved for that. Panting under his mask, Newt leant against the untouched part of the wall and waited for his body to catch up. His heart was beating fast and he was perspiring. But even with the tiredness, he felt happy to see his work progressing. 

His body shivered and he allowed himself to sat down. He had worked more than five hours in a row, maybe was it good to have a little break. The slightly opened window let an icy cold wind sneak in. It was agreeable. Newt let his eyes close, enjoying a little moment to rest a bit. He had decided and planned all the painting of the room, pencil could be seen everywhere on the still naked walls and sketches were everywhere on the floor. He had good hope he could finish within two or three days, it would be awesome. 

A little voice in the back of his head told him to get up and not stay in the cold wind with his wet skin. He groaned and exited the room. He had to take care of himself. He couldn’t always make Thomas worry about him. He went to the kitchen and sat at their table, he could feel the tiredness getting stronger each minute and decided he could have a little nap on his folded arms. He was asleep as his brain was finishing this thought.

****

Teresa pulled the car in front of the building and smiled:

“Dear passengers, thank you for choosing Agnes Airlines, we hope you enjoyed your trip.”

“You’re crazy.” Minho laughed as he got out of the car. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I know, you crank.” She beamed. “I can’t wait to meet Newt finally.”

They took the groceries bags in the boot, chatting happily, when the Asian heard his name called in the distance. Looking up, he saw Lisa at her balcony, the woman looked severe but it wasn’t something unusual since her mother was at the hospital. She visibly wanted to talk to him and went back inside.

“Who’s that?” Teresa asked as they walked to the building.

“Harriet’s mother.” Minho replied. “You know, the girl with her grandma in the hospital.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember you telling me.” The girl nodded before smirking. “Is this Harriet the girl haunting your thoughts?”

“T, don’t try to-”

“Minho!” Lisa called in the corridor, cutting him mid-sentence.

The two of them stopped, watching as the woman approached. For some reason, the Korean didn’t like it: she looked stressed or angry, her tone was mandatory and her steps aggressive. There was something wrong and he was pretty sure it was going to burst in his face. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The dark skinned woman snapped, confirming his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” He asked nonetheless, sure that it wasn’t a good idea.

“You know very well what I mean!” Lisa exclaimed. “She’s 17! You’re 28, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Minho simply answered calmly.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Harriet’s mother indignantly barked. “Don’t you come near my daughter again, do you hear me?! Or I’ll send you the cops!”

And with that, she went back in her apartment and slammed the door. Teresa gulped, realising she had stopped breathing during the argument. Her eyes went to her friend: Minho hadn’t move a bit, staring at the door, his teeth clenched, rigid. She wanted to hug him, not even imagining what he was going through, but as she opened her mouth, he moved:

“Let’s go.”

His tone was flat. It was difficult to know if he was holding back or was just defeated. Teresa didn’t dare to argue and simply followed. She’d wanted to know who was the little crush her friend had, but now she saw him like this, she knew it wasn’t just a crush. They climbed the stairs in a deafening silence and the make-up artist was only too happy to arrive at the flat. As they got in, they found Newt asleep on the kitchen table. Minho didn’t even hesitated when coming near him:

“Newt?” He gently shook his shoulder. “Newt, wake up, you’re gonna catch a cold like this.”

His tone was gentle and he smiled slightly. Teresa watched without knowing what to say. It was awkward to be just there after the scene that happened only a few minutes earlier. The blonde groaned and opened his eyes:

“Min’?”

“You have a bed, remember?” The Korean smirked.

“I know…” The Brit scrubbed his eyes and looked up at his roommate. “What’s wrong?”

The question was so simple and yet Teresa was surprised: Minho was smiling at him, his sadness being easily mistaken for tiredness. Yet Newt seemed now fully awake and worried:

“Min’, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing you need to care about.” His roommate shrugged. “Shit happens… But let me introduce you to our makeup artist and friend: Teresa.”

The Brit looked at her as if suddenly realising there was someone standing in their corridor. He nodded to her:

“Hi.”

“Hey, Newt.” The girl gently smiled. “You look better than the last time I saw you. It’s a relief.”

The last time she had seen him being the day Harriet’s grandmother had fallen in the stairs. Newt surely looked better: his face had colours, his eyes shined with awareness. She smiled at his wild hair:

“You might need a haircut, though.”

“I’m gonna put my things down. Feel at home, T.” Minho said before heading to his temporary room.

Newt’s gaze followed him out of the kitchen and then went back to Teresa. He was silently asking her for explanations, but had she even the right to say it? As she stayed silent, the Brit sighed. He didn’t want to pry but he definitely knew that something was wrong with his friend. He got up:

“Wanna drink something hot before I prepare dinner?”

“A tea would be lovely.” The brunette girl smiled, relieved that he didn’t dig any further.

 

A few floors away, it wasn’t really the same atmosphere. Having no friends around to share her feelings, she was a teen with a pretty strong will and most would say a pretty bad temper:

“YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!” Harriet yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Harriet! Enough!” Lisa barked back.

“Or what?! You’re gonna turn my life more miserable than it already is?! I had to move far from my friends, Grandma is in the hospital and now that I like someone, you had to take it away from me!”

“He is too old for you, Harriet.” Her mother stated.

“Says who?! Grandma and Grandpa had 20 years of difference!” The girl snarled.

“It was another time, Harriet. And I don’t have to justify: I'm your mother and I say that he is too old for you.” Lisa said coldly.

“Fine! Lock me up just like the psychopath Sonya has as stepfather! I’ll end up hating you just the same way!” Harriet didn’t let go.

“HARRIET!” The woman screamed, out of patience.

Her daughter stared at her, with this intensity teens could have in their emotions. To say she hated her mother was wrong: she was truly angry, furious even, but she still loved her deep inside. So Harriet turned heels and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. Lisa sighed deeply, tired. She was doing the right thing for her daughter, no matter how difficult it was to have her own flesh yelling at her and staring at her with so much anger. She looked down at the cell phone she had confiscated. The display showed Minho and Harriet, smiling as they posed in front of the river, Harriet pulling at Minho’s cheek, visibly finding it hilarious. They had 11 years of difference, and her tiny girl was so young. No, she couldn’t let it happen. 

Harriet was crying in her room. There was no way she could reach for Sonya or Aris without her phone. Tomorrow seemed so far away… She bit her lips and balled her hands into fists: she would find a way. No matter how, she would.

****

Minho had been unusually quiet during diner. He answered questions but didn’t start any conversation, lost in his thoughts most of the time. Reason and feelings were battling in his mind. Somehow he understood Lisa’s worries, she was a mother after all, but part of him was just as impetuous as his girlfriend, crying angrily that it wasn’t fair. The most they had done was holding hands and soft kisses: Minho had always said to Harriet that they had to be patient and wait; and if the girl had been surprised first, she had simply nodded and had never asked for more. He knew he could have real problems if Lisa reported him to the police. 

“Minho?”

Hearing his name, he suddenly focused back on diner and faced Newt, Thomas and Teresa’s worried gazes. Teresa knew but had said nothing, for which he was grateful, Newt on the other hand, was much more sensible to the others’ feelings and had noticed right away that something was wrong. He was staring at him:

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, what happened?” Thomas added. “You’re so quiet, I’m beginning to think that T killed your brain or something.”

“Hey!” The makeup artist protested.

“Nothing you guys have to worry about.” The Asian answered flatly. “Just leave it.”

Newt was visibly displeased and on the contrary worrying quite a lot. His other roommate pinched his lips and murmured in concern:

“If you wanna talk, we can listen, you know? You’re not alone.”

They were his friends, truly worrying about him. He knew it. But somehow, right now, he felt like a hurt wild animal showing claws and teeth. He didn’t even recognise his own voice when he coldly answered:

“I don’t like to lie, so stop asking.”

Thomas’ eyes widened and Minho instantaneously regretted his words. He sighed heavily and got up.

“Sorry. I’ll be in my room.”

And with that, he left. Thomas and Newt exchanged a worried glance, wondering what was going on: they had never seen their roommate so down. Teresa bit her lips. She knew. Perhaps the boys could help their friend if she told them. Or at least smooth his sadness… She was staring at her plate, in total distress, when Thomas suddenly said:

“Do you think it’s a love problem?”

“You mean a girlfriend?” Newt asked.

“Well, yeah.” The brunette shrugged. “If it was a problem at work, Teresa would know. Plus it wouldn’t affect him that much. There’s nothing else I can think of.”

“How romantic you are.” The Brit smirked before getting serious again. “I don’t know. What kind of love problem can get you down that much?”

“The kind that can bring you problems.” Teresa finally sighed, whispering as she gave in. “When we came, he had an argument with a woman. Looks like Minho has a relationship with her daughter and she said that if he didn’t stay away, she would report him to the cops, ‘cuz the girl’s only 17.”

“Lisa?” Newt’s eyes widened.

“You mean… Is our Minho in couple with Harriet?” Thomas murmured in bewilderment.

“Looks like he is to me.” The makeup artist nodded. “Does it bother you?”

“The cops… Shuck…” The blonde mumbled, cutting the brunette before he even answered to that. “That’s kinda direct.”

“What can we do? It’s not like we can just tell Lisa that Minho is the perfect husband…” Thomas wondered.

“I think that first, we need to organise a way for them to see each other.” Teresa said. “It’s not like he can call her without risks.”

“Well… I might know someone who can help.” The Brit smiled.

“Who?” His roommate asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Granny. She loves Harriet. She would do anything for her granddaughter to be happy.” Newt explained. “Including passing messages.”

“Newt, you’re brilliant!” Thomas exclaimed.

The blonde blushed with a pleased smile.They would do that all together, without telling Minho for the moment. They had to talk to Granny first. As the boys were expressing a few ideas, Teresa kept observing those two. A smile slightly pulled on her lips: Thomas hadn’t seemed so enthusiastic with anyone. He seemed happier. Newt seemed to have a really positive effect on him. She was glad they had met each other and were friends. She wonder how Brenda could not get along with them, they really seemed very close. And it hit her: were those two more than friends? She knew Brenda had sort of feelings for Thomas, could it be that she had gotten jealous? Watching them, she could tell the two boys weren’t a couple, but they sure were very close. Thomas seemed at ease with the blonde, he looked at him in a way Teresa had never seen him look at anybody. 

Her eyes went on Newt. The Brit seemed pretty attached to the actor but she didn’t knew him enough to judge. As her mind came back on the conversation, she found the two boys pretty carried on in their mission to rescue their roommate’s love story. She cleared her throat:

“Guys… Just to remember you: if her mother takes that to the cops, Minho will be accused of pedophilia and arrested.”

“What…?” Thomas looked at her in horror. “But she’s not a kid…”

“Still, she’s not an adult. And she’s not over the age of sexual majority.” Teresa sighed.

“When is the sexual majority in United States?” Newt asked. “21? Like everything else?”

“Yeah.” His roommate nodded.

“You guys have a serious problem with the number 21.” The blonde mumbled. 

“Guys, be serious there. Being arrested for being a minor molester is not a little thing.” The make-up artist continued. “It can go to 15 years of jail. And you don’t wanna know how pedophiles are treated in prison.”

“Alright. So we have to be extra cautious: no written messages, no snapchat, no facebook…” Thomas began to enumerate.

“Pretty sure Lisa already took care of that…” Newt murmured.

They sighed all at once. It wasn’t an easy case, but at least they were pretty happy to be on the same side: Teresa had made a point by talking about pedophilia and they knew it could have really bad consequences for their friend but… It didn’t feel like it, for none of them. Harriet was pretty mature for a 17 years old girl and Minho didn’t look like he was 28. But it didn’t change the reality: she was still a minor. The three of them didn’t know how to handle this but they were sure of one thing: their friend would never molest a teenage girl. They had faith in that.

Teresa left a bit later, leaving the two boys on their own. Minho didn’t look like he would come out of his room anytime soon and his roommates wouldn’t force him. Thomas turned off the lights in all the flat before joining Newt in his room. The blonde had already changed into one of Thomas’ big t-shirts and a sweatpants, a view his roommate could never get tired of if it wasn’t the serious face the Brit was pulling.

“Still thinking about it, aren’t you?” The brunette murmured as he closed the door.

“Yeah… Never thought I’d face a situation like that.” Newt sighed. “I’m worried about Minho.”

“I know.” Thomas gently put his hand on his friend’s shoulder, being careful to only touch the fabric of the t-shirt, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. “But we’ll be there for him. Together.”

Newt smiled at that and nodded. He knew he was lucky Thomas had shown the same enthusiasm to help him. That was the brunette’s nature, and the reason why the Brit had been attracted to him. He sighed, dropping his gaze:

“Being in love… And not be able to even touch the person you love…”

Thomas felt a pang of pain at those words. If the blonde only knew how true his words were… He bit down his lower lip, fighting against the will of embracing the Brit. 

“It must be excruciating.” He whispered. “That’s why we’re gonna help. So they can keep in touch… Well let’s go to sleep. Goodnight Newt.”

“Goodnight Tommy.”

They both went to their beds, one in his bed, the other on the mattress on the floor. In the dark, never has Thomas found his bed so big nor empty. So cold…

 

**_To be continued..._ **


	16. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt wants to help Minho in his love story. Even a little groggy, he goes to the hospital to ask Granny for some help.

Thomas had gone to work pretty early that day: they had many scenes to shoot at the light of the wee hours. So when Newt got up, he wasn’t surprised to be alone in the room. His throat was a bit raspy and his head hurt slightly. He got up, stretching up like a lazy cat, and went to the kitchen to take a little breakfast. Or at least it was what he had first planned: he stopped in the corridor as he spotted Minho’s closed door. It wasn’t in the Asian’s habit to keep his door closed, on the contrary he used to rush out, letting everything opened. Slowly, Newt approached the door and knocked slightly:

“Minho? Are you there?”

A groan came as an answer, causing the blonde to frown: usually, his roommate would be at work by now or at least on his way. So he allowed himself in, pushing gently the door, his eyes only finding pitch black. He needed a few seconds for his eyes to get used to the darkness, finding his roommate in his bed.

“Minho? How come you’re still here? What about your work? Weren’t you supposed to shoot near the Opera today?”

“Called sick.” The form mumbled from under the covers.

“Are you really?” The Brit raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms, visibly skeptical.

“I’m tired.” The Korean offered.

Newt slightly sighed, feeling sorry for his friend. He coughed slightly: he should have stopped by the kitchen to drink something first. He didn’t want to let his roommate down and smiled:

“Wanna have some breakfast? I can make pancakes, if you want.”

Slowly, he saw a head emerging from under the covers and Minho looked at him, offering a small smile:

“You say the sweetest things.”

“I know. I should have gone for politics studies.” Newt smirked. “Come on, get up. I’m gonna prepare it now.”

And with that he left to the kitchen. He was so used to it that it only took him a few minutes to get everything ready and the pan steaming. Minho finally came, his hair wild and his face unhappy at the light of the day. He looked like he hadn’t slept much. Newt wondered if it was because of Harriet. As he cooked, he heard his roommate sat at the table, pouring himself some juice and the coffee he had prepared.

“It’ll be good in a minute.”

He piled up the pancakes in two plates and brought them to the table before getting some jam and butter. Minho nodded his thanks and appreciated to get also a coffee. But as soon Newt began to eat, he heard the Asian voice out:

“You know, don’t you?”

The Brit froze, his fork and pancake in his mouth. He didn’t expect the Korean to be so straightforward. Slowly, he swallowed and simply nodded: Minho didn’t like lies, at all, so he wouldn’t serve him any. His friend sighed, shaking slightly his head:

“Teresa?”

“She told… What happened with Lisa.” Newt murmured and added. “Because she care about you.”

“I know she does. I don’t blame her.” The Asian shrugged slightly. “At least I don’t have to go through it all with you.”

“I’m sorry.” The blonde said lowly. “I hope it gets better.”

“... Thanks for not saying a thing about my age or hers.” Minho weakly smiled.

Newt pinched his lips, not liking at all how down his friend sounded. He shook his head and muttered:

“Well… Thank you for not saying a thing about my infected blood… Or my stupid crush.”

“Never would. And it's not stupid.” Minho countered with a sly smile. “Pretty sure Thomas feels something for you.”

“Stop it.” The Brit replied dryly. “Don’t say that.”

“Newt…”

“We’re not talking about me.” The blonde stated firmly. “What are you gonna do with Harriet ?”

“What?”

The Korean stared at him with wide eyes, visibly taken aback by the question. What was he going to do with Harriet? It wasn’t like he had much of a choice there. He sighed deeply and shook his head:

“Nothing… It’s not a shucking love series where everything’s gonna be alright. I’m not really into the jail thing either.”

But his eyes were hard on the table, like he wanted to persuade himself. Newt stayed silent for a moment and then sight deeply before continuing:

“Look, we’ve been thinking…”

“We?” The Asian looked back at him.

“Teresa, Thomas and me.” The blond explained. “I can give her messages by Granny. She’d love to do it if it made Harriet smile. I’m sure of it.”

Minho stared at him and then down, visibly upset by the entire situation, as if he didn’t know if he wanted to stay silent, cry or simply stay in bed. Newt coughed slightly to clear his dry throat and murmured:

“Just think it through, okay? Harriet has a fierce temper. Remember my eye? And she won’t just smile and wave. Be prepared for that.”

“I know!” Minho let out an exasperated sigh. “And I love her for that too but if Lisa just feeds me to the cops, I’ll be the one screwed, Newt.”

“So let me give her a message.” The blonde insisted. “It might keep her calm for a while.”

****

Newt walked out of the bus, coughing. His throat was getting sour from it. Maybe he should just stop by a pharmacy and buy some sirup. He sighed: he didn’t want to be sick but visibly the few minutes from the day before where he had been sweaty in the little wind had been enough. He arrived at the hospital and made his way through the crowd, loving those gloves Thomas had given him. He didn’t touch anyone and got in the elevator easily: his lungs being a bit reluctant so he prefered to ignore the stairs.

He kept coughing though. His throat was beginning to hurt. Not a good sign. He went through his pockets to fish his phone out and suddenly realized that his money had stayed on Thomas’ desk. And his credit card wouldn’t help there. He closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself for such stupidity. He hesitated and took his phone, calling the Asian:

“Hey. I know you’re not in the mood but… Could you bring me my money to the hospital, please? It’s on Thomas desk.”

 _“Man, you have no mercy.”_ Minho grumbled.

“Please ?” Newt smiled sheepishly.

_“Coming. Meet you there. Just not in the Granny’s room.”_

“Sure. Call me when you’re here. Thanks, Minho.”

Hanging up, the blonde looked up at his own reflect in the elevator’s mirror: his skin was shining with sweat. Frowning, he passed his hand on his forehead: was he feverish ? He didn’t feel warm. Perhaps he had covered a bit too much today. He opened his coat and got out of the elevator. The corridors were empty mostly if not crossed by a nurse here and there. The rooms were opened and murmurs filled them, like a little buzzing. He arrived at the room and knocked at the door:

“Granny? It’s Newt.”

As soon as the door opened, he saw the small woman smile widely, her eyes sparkling with joy. He smiled back, feeling a bit like home with Granny. But as soon as he sat, her eyes filled with worry and she framed his face with her hands, making him chuckle:

“I’m fine, Granny. Maybe a little feverish but I’m fine… Please, don’t touch me. You know I don’t want you to get infected by me.”

The old woman gave him a little slap on the head for those words. He grinned and asked about her, her day, the people in the hospital and if they treated her well. He asked those questions every single time he came. And Granny told him, in her own way, but soon enough, she pointed at him to return the questions.

“I’m fine really.” He said, even if his cough wasn’t that good, but he continued. “I’m painting Minho’s room and it’s great because it keeps me busy. I’m pretty manual. But… You know, Minho is having a hard time right now…”

The dark skinned woman rose her eyebrows, visibly worried. She patted Newt’s arm, as if asking what was going on. Sometimes, the blonde wondered if it was really that easy to understand her or if it was just an impression. He sighed slightly:

“He’s deeply in love.”

Granny’s face lit up and she gave him a little slap on the arm with a scowl for making her worried. But Newt pinched his lips:

“The problem is deeper though. She’s younger than him. 11 years.”

As he expected, Granny moved her hands as if saying it was no big deal. That was the easiest part. Now came the tricky one:

“It’s Harriet, Granny. Minho is in love with Harriet.” He said calmly, carefully watching as the information sank in. “I know she’s young. And he knows it too, you know. Minho is really a good guy. He wouldn’t do anything that could harm her. He loves her. Really.”

Harriet’s grandmother stared at him for a few seconds and a mischievous smile pulled on her lips. She shook her head and smiled fondly, which Newt interpreted as a sign she wasn’t bothered by the age difference. He felt bolder and murmured:

“Would you hel-” but he was cut mid-sentence by a furious coughing.

The back of his throat was so tight and the cough so strong he felt like his head was going to explode. Tears ran down his cheeks as he was suffocating. It hurt! So much! He even had a sudden gagging and though he would vomit his breakfast. And he would have prefered: suddenly his hand and the floor were painted in blood. Red and dark, like a dangerous poison.

An icy chill shook his entire body at the sight but he couldn’t stop himself from coughing. His ears began to ring and his head to spin. What was happening to him? His heart was rabitting in his chest as he tried to calm down. But suddenly, he saw a nurse coming in the room: Granny was frantically pressing the call button and pointing at him. The nurse’s eyes widened and she came instantaneously closer. His blood froze:

“NO!” He managed to bark between two coughs. “I’m positive!”

His voice was almost as if he had his mouth full. He was feeling light-headed but kept his hands up, not wanting anyone coming near him.

“Don’t…” He whispered before the darkness engulfed him, letting him fall into oblivion.

****

Never had she run that fast in her entire life. She heard people scolding her for running in the corridors but she didn’t stop, launching herself in the stairs instead of the elevator to go faster. When she arrived in the corridor of her grandmother’s room, Harriet found Minho. He was sitting on the chairs near the door, his face into in hands. The heart beating fast, she ran the last few steps and sat near him:

“Minho…”

The Asian slowly turned his face to her. His eyes were the definition of sadness. Gently, she pulled him in her arms and hugged him tightly. He was the older one, but right now, she felt like protecting him. Her voice was almost a whisper when she said:

“He’s gonna be alright, Minho. He’s a fighter.”

“Yeah…” He murmured back, not really convinced. “Where’s Sonya?”

“Her stepdad took her home by force. Because she called her mother to get a ride. And he came instead.” Harriet sighed. “I told her I’d come and tell her if I had any news.”

“A good reason to run, huh?” Minho tried to smile.

“Shut up, will you?” The high schooler smirked.

They stayed like this for a few minutes before she let go of him and they spoke. Newt had fainted in the room. The nurse had called for help and they had taken him into an emergency room. They had taken care of the blood so the blond wouldn’t drown in it. Minho didn’t know more. He sat straight and Harriet took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers, her other hand gently brushing against his knuckles.

“They’re gonna save him. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks, I… Thanks for coming.” The Korean said. “I don’t really know what to do with myself… Your grandma was so anxious they gave her something to relax. She was sleeping when I came.”

“I’ll go check on her.” She nodded. “Did you warn Thomas?”

“Sent a text.” Minho shrugged. “He’s working. I don’t know when he will see it.”

“Thank you for telling me, though.” Harriet murmured. “Sonya would be there if she could…”

She sent her a quick text and excuse herself just a minute to go into her grandmother’s room. The room had been cleaned, thankfully. She didn’t really know what she had expected. Her grandmother was asleep, looking so small in this big white bed. Harriet came closer and gently caressed her cheek. She knew how fond of Newt her grandmother was. She must have been quite shaken. Poor woman.

“He will be alright, grandma.” She murmured, hoping to convinced herself of it too.

She came back to Minho and sat at his side. Never had she seen him so down, a proof that he was truly worried. She took his hand again and stayed like this in silence. There wasn’t anything to say if not some empty reassuring words. Minho needed a presence and she wanted to be here for that. She closed her eyes and silently asked for Newt to be okay. She wasn’t really a believer but right now there was nothing else she could think of if not: _please, let him be okay_.

The time passed by. Lazy and fast at the same time. And before they knew it: it was noon. Harriet only realised it when seeing her mother appearing in the corridor and frowning deeply at their sight. She even felt Minho’s hand retreating but she hold on firmly onto it, her gaze on her mother.

“Harriet, what are you doing here? You should be at school.” Lisa said in a cold tone, her eyes glaring at their intertwined fingers.

“Newt is in here, mom.” Harriet calmly answered, even if her voice had a note of defiance. “I’m here on behalf of Sonya, to tell her how he’s doing since her psycho-stepdad won’t even let her come and check on her brother. And I am here for my friend too.”

Lisa took a moment to digest the information. Meanwhile, Minho gently pushed Harriet’s hand away, slightly shaking his head as she looked at him in disbelief: he wasn’t in the mood to stand his ground, nor was he to have a fight with Lisa. The woman seemed to notice since she inhaled deeply and turned towards him:

“What happened?”

The Asian told her what he had already told Harriet. It was almost an automatic mode. Lisa looked shaken, like at loss of words. She went to check on her mother, leaving the two of them alone. Harriet looked at Minho and before she could say anything, he murmured:

“I’m not starting a war with your mother today, Harriet. Don’t act like you just did again.”

The young girl’s eyes widened and he hated how she looked like he had just stabbed her in the heart. She bit her lower lip and murmured:

“Sorry… I know it’s not the right time. I… I don’t know why I keep pushing…”

“You’re still a teen, that’s why.” Minho cut in mercilessly. “You want to make a point? Fine. Go back to school. Have good grades. Show that you are responsible and that you know where your priorities are. That you’re not just leaving everything to rot for some teenager love adventure. Show me that I’m more than that to you.”

“I hate when you’re lecturing me.” The dark skinned girl groaned. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.” He stated.

“So… You’re pushing me away... Because of my mother?” Harriet asked lowly, her gaze dropping.

“I’m not pushing you away.” Minho chuckled. “I’m trying to get you back.”

Her big dark brown eyes looked back at him and a smile pulled slightly on her lips. She nodded slowly and got up:

“Alright… You write to me about Newt, ‘kay? So I can tell Sonya too.” She reached for him and pressed his hand in hers. “Sorry. I’ll try to be a bit more adult…”

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “I’ll write to you. I promise.”

She nodded and took her school bag on her shoulder. But as soon as she had walked a few meters away, she looked back and smirked:

“Minho? Whatever happens... You’ll be my boyfriend. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

And she left. The Korean smiled slightly and sighed, shaking his head: she had a strong temper. And he loved her for that. Lisa appeared in his sight and stayed silent. From her face, he knew she had heard everything and that she was searching for words. He didn’t know what she wanted to tell him, either to thank him for pushing away Harriet or to threaten him again, but he really didn’t care at that moment:

“I asked your daughter to leave so I could worry all I wanted about my friend. Whatever you have to say, I’d be grateful you waited for another time.”

Maybe it was his tone, but Lisa didn’t say anything. She opened her mouth but no words came out of it. She simply left after a moment, having to go back to work. He was finally alone. He was tired of being there for others, dealing with problems or just being polite to people: right now, he just wanted to know how Newt was going.

He asked a few time but they kept saying he was under observation and that they couldn’t tell him anything more. He even had the time to go to the cafeteria where he bought a sandwich and a cup of coffee. It didn’t taste like the one the blonde made. Newt’s coffee was dark and strong, too much to be really honest. He remembered when he had told the blonde about it:

 _“My coffee is just as bitter as life.”_ He had crossed his arms and chuckled. _“No, I just don’t know how to dose a shucking coffee.”_

He smiled joylessly at the memory. And then scolded himself for it:

“Shuck… Don’t think of him as if he was dead, you morron.”

 

 

Thomas arrived a few hours later. He was out of breath when he pushed the door of the corridor. Minho was waiting for him just near the room door. Thomas stopped just in front of him, bending over as he tried to get some breath back.

“How is he?”

“Unconscious. They put him to sleep. He… He is intubated, Thomas.” The Asian explained. “So he doesn’t feel pain.”

“What’s going on?” The brunette insisted. “Why is he intubated?”

“Dr. Mary said that it’s not as serious as it looks.” Minho continued. “Newt’s immune system is very weak.”

“You’re telling me he’s been intubated because of a bad flu?” Thomas rolled his eyes, not able to restrain his irony. “Tell me!”

“Well… You’re not that far: bronchitis.” His friend sighed. “Dr. Mary said that they would keep him a few days like this.”

“Sleeping?” The brunette whispered.

Minho nodded. He could see how his friend was taking all this. They went to ask to see their friend: it was a sterile room so they had to take many dispositions. When they got into the room, they saw a large transparent plastic curtain all around the bed. Newt seemed so small in it. So fragile. Thomas hesitated and took his hand in his. It was warm and limp. His thumb caressed gently his fingers.

“He doesn’t like when I touch his skin...”

Newt’s face stayed still. The medical installation seemed so big on him. Thomas wanted to tear all that apart and take the blonde in his arms. His throat was tight and his eyes watering. He inhaled deeply and tenderly let his fingers slide into those blond strands. He murmured:

“Come back… I need you…”

As they walked out of the hospital, Minho proposed to his roommate to have a drink, which Thomas gladly accepted. He needed to change his mind. He smiled thankfully as Minho passed his arm around his shoulder:

“Come on. He’s tough. He’s gonna make it.”

“I know.” Thomas sighed. “But it's hard…”

“They didn’t say anything when you left your job?” Minho asked.

“No. They told me I could take the day. They are filming all the scenes where I’m not.” The brunette explained.

“What did you tell them?” His roommate asked, even if he had a slight idea of it.

“That my boyfriend was in hospital.” Thomas muttered. “What? He just doesn’t know it yet.”

**_To be continued..._ **


End file.
